


Jeeves Meets the Phantom of the Opera

by VTsuion



Series: The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves [8]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Confessions, Dysfunctional Family, Escape, Fear, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Meet the Family, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Psychological Torture, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTsuion/pseuds/VTsuion
Summary: Jeeves and Bertie are kidnapped by a madman out for revenge against Jeeves for a thing he did many years ago, when they were children. With some help, Jeeves and Bertie escape, but even then, they are hardly out of the woods - but is it their safety or the looming danger that's all an illusion?
Relationships: Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Series: The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860103
Comments: 14
Kudos: 36





	1. In the Cellars of the Opera

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags suggest, this tale will get a little dark in places. If you're feeling a bit squeamish, you can skip ahead to the second chapter, which is lighter and recovery-focused.

It looked to be a perfectly pleasant evening on the face of it; there could be none better for strolling about the city of lights as the sun set. Jeeves and I were vacationing in Paris, you see. We had passed a leisurely day doing this and that, and after an excellent dinner - I forget where, after everything that followed - we were off to the opera to see their latest show. I couldn’t say I had high hopes for the thing; I’m more a chap for musical theater myself, but Jeeves was looking forward to it. I could see an especially brainy glint in his eyes at the prospect of an evening of the improving stuff, not that a chap like Jeeves needed any improving. As the managers had sent me a couple of tickets on the house, I couldn’t very well refuse. If nothing else, I expected to get a few extra hours of the dreamless.

However, all was not sanguine even as Jeeves and I strode up to the grand doors of the opera house.

I believe, I exclaimed something along the lines of, “Jeeves, she’s already making wedding arrangements!”

“Most distressing, sir,” was all Jeeves said in reply, and that with all the enthusiasm of a stuffed frog.

You see, I was engaged again, and none too happy about the fact. She had a perfectly fine profile and such what, but I had no desire to see it each morning from across the dining room table. The fact of the matter was that the prospect of marrying anyone at all was looking less and less appealing. It was starting to seem to me that no girl, no matter how beauteous, could possibly be worth all that trouble. The topper on the cake was, of course, Jeeves, who had expressed every intention of tendering his resignation the instant the wedding bells ceased to chime - or perhaps a moment before, punctual as he is.

It was the last point that had me the most biffed about the man’s reaction. For all he’d said about “ties that bind” you’d think the chap would do more than say “most distressing, sir” upon hearing that a Wooster marriage loomed on the horizon, growing ever nearer. But Jeeves seemed dashed indifferent to the matter, as though he’d just as soon say “toodle-pip” and never set eyes on Bertram W. again. As a result, you can imagine my manner toward the man was distinctly cold as we stepped into the opera house and I passed him my coat with hardly a glance Jeevesward - “most distressing” indeed.

I confess I was rather consumed by my own troubles, when I happened upon a rather rummy chap. The only way I can describe him is rummy, from his bright green eyes to his cap, which would have made Jeeves faint if I’d been the one sporting it. Still, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance, except his eyes met mine and he took it as an invitation to step over and rub elbows.

Not to be rude despite my preoccupation, I greeted him with a “What ho!” that was perhaps only just shy of my usual cheeriness.

“You are an Englishman?” he asked in a low, urgent voice, as though we were fellow attendees at a meeting of some secret society.

“I am,” I said, with a bit of a, “what of it?” in my voice.

“Be careful,” he urged.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You can never be too careful,” the man insisted, making no attempt to clarify as he glanced frantically about. And then without another word, he hurried off and vanished into the crowd of our fellow opera-goers.

I didn’t have long to consider the whole rummy thing, for just as the chap disappeared, Jeeves materialized at my elbow. “Sir?”

I waved it off airily and was about to proceed with a smile, when I remembered the dashed indifference of the man and so gestured for him to lead the way with naught but dignified reserve.

I confess, with all that ensued, I can only recall the opera in pieces. The whole plot of the thing was rather lost on me; something about a bit of a pill of a chap who made a deal with what I think was supposed to be the devil or some sort of demon, and there was something about a girl. I wonder if I didn’t drift off into the dreamless at a few particularly slow bits, but some of the pieces were catchy enough.

The managers had not only provided for me and a guest to see the show, but had invited us backstage besides - no doubt courting the much sought-after Wooster patronage. I could have told them they were wasting their consideration on me; it was Jeeves who could be swayed by an opera and Jeeves who managed my checkbook besides. As I have mentioned, on that particular evening I wasn’t feeling too kindly toward the chap, but even I found the prospect of a backstage tour enticing.

So, as the rest of the populace filtered out, Jeeves and I filtered ‘round to the stage door. The first rummy thing that ought have tipped us off, bizarre warnings aside, was that there wasn’t anyone there to greet us. Instead, it was Jeeves who pulled open the door to welcome me back, into the domain of the performers and stagehands. I crossed the threshold from the opulent theater into the austere halls, filled with men and women hurrying to and fro in varying states of costume. It wasn’t so different from my own experiences on Broadway with my chums on the opposite shore of the great pond.

At last, we heard a fellow call out to us from the fray; “ _ Suivez-moi, monsieurs! _ ”

Jeeves and I exchanged a glance, before, with the valiant spirit of my ancestors charging off to Agincourt, I flung myself into the crowd after him, and true to his feudal spirit, Jeeves followed shortly after. I couldn’t say it was easy going, there were a few times, as towering set-pieces tottered by, that I saw my very life flash before my eyes, but at last, we emerged into a quiet hall off the main thoroughfare.

The comparatively fresh air was such a relief after the squeeze of the throng that I didn’t realize at first that the hall was a little too empty. It was so empty, in fact, that the only fellows there were Jeeves and myself, even our guide had vanished. I believe I had begun to turn around to consult Jeeves - dashed silent despite all this rummy business - when I fancy I recall the feeling of someone grabbing me, and then nothing.

* * *

I awoke feeling rather like I had been run over by a steam engine - that is to say, only a little worse than usual after staying out reveling until the early hours of the morning with my fellow Drones. Not to say that staying out reveling until the early hours of the morning was routine for Bertram W. by that time as it was in my younger years. No, on the whole, I’m a chap for the quiet life, and rummily enough I had no recollection of reveling at all on that particular m. 

It was all a bit thick, to tell the truth, but as you know, I am rarely further from the top of my form than when I’m still blinking open my eyes in the bright and early, especially after a night of revels. Even rummier than my temporary lapse was the peculiar absence of my man Jeeves with his legendary restorative, to get me back into tip top shape in an instant.

And then there was the matter of my eyes. I could have sworn they were open, but open or shut didn’t seem to make a lick of a difference. I couldn’t even make out the red glare of the over-bright sun through my closed eyelids. Not only did I appear to be in a darkened void, but it was a dashed uncomfortable one at that. I was certainly not in any manner of bed; my back was propped up against something soft enough and pleasantly warm in the dank darkness, but my lower half found itself pressed against something cold and hard. My hands, when I found them, still rather lost in the dreamless themselves, were folded behind me in the most awkward position, weighed down by sharp metal cuffs.

It was at this juncture that the Wooster courage rather failed me and I called out for Jeeves in a voice that may have been called plaintive, but was mostly just frightened.

The answer came from directly behind me; a sharp, “Quietly, sir.”

The man’s tone was distinctly lacking in sympathy, but I was so pleased to see - or rather, hear - the chap that my only response would have been to leap up in exaltation, though I was, of course, hindered by the awkward position of my hands and the unsteady state of my legs, so instead I really just stayed where I was. It seemed the pleasant thing I was leaning against was in fact Jeeves’s broad back - I presumed him to be sitting just as I was, but facing opposite.

“What’s the meaning of all this?” I asked in a somewhat bleary attempt to get a handle on the circs. as they were. My eyes resumed their blinking, but still, no light was forthcoming.

“I couldn’t say, sir,” Jeeves replied, again in dashed cold tones, as though he disapproved of my tie - and I’d thought we’d finally moved past the cold-shouldering and all that over such things as ties.

“Couldn’t say, Jeeves?” I asked, growing, I confess, more than a little frantic.

The darkness seemed to press in from all sides, like a thousand ghostly hands grabbing at me out of the void. The clanking cuffs around my wrists suggested that of all the ghost stories I had heard, I found myself in one of the ghastliest.

“No, sir,” Jeeves said.

His dire words echoed into silence, but the infernal clanking persisted even as my arms fell still. A chill ran down my spine. I thought I felt an icy something ghost across my hand.

“Jeeves,” I said, my voice now no more than a whisper, as though somehow I could evade the notice of whatever ghosts prowled in the darkness if only I kept quiet enough, “Do you hear that?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeeves said, with a touch of bally impatience, “I am maneuvering my hands into a more serviceable position.”

I let out a shaky breath of relief, and my voice rang out a little too loud as I said, “Trying to get comfortable, what?”

“No, sir. I am attempting to remove a pin from my shirt-cuff.”

“You forgot a pin in your shirt-cuff?” From any other man, such a revelation would hardly warrant the description, but for Jeeves, any such lapse in attention is absolutely unheard of. The thought that his great brain had been softening while I carried on none the wiser was enough to start the beginnings of a panic.

“No, sir,” Jeeves said, bringing the works to halt, “I typically keep a pin on hand in case of such necessity.”

“This is no time to be worrying about tears, Jeeves!”

“No, sir” - the chap sounded just shy of murderous. “I expect the pin will suffice to remove these manacles.”

This was an unforeseen possibility. “You mean to pick the lock?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Again, my voice, too high and too loud, echoed in the darkness.

“No, sir,” Jeeves said, and that was that - of course I was no use to the man.

I admit it stung a little, the dismissive way he answered me, as though I were nothing but a nuisance. Not that I would have wanted to heed my own words; I was not a chap to be heeded under such dire circs. But when everyone else dismissed me, Jeeves usually listened, at least, and I say it hurt to find that when push came to shove, he saw me just as everyone else did.

I tried not to ruminate on it, but aside from my own swirling thoughts, all I knew was the quiet clanking of metal behind my back and the occasional brush of our hands, as Jeeves proceeded at his delicate work. The rest was a cold, hard, dank void. Indistinct shapes seemed to waver just out of sight, peering eyes, or grabbing hands. There could have been anything lurking or prowling in the infinite silence. Even Jeeves’s careful movements seemed too loud, like a beacon drawing all manner of ghoul to our location.

You may think it bizarre, that upon finding myself in as real a danger as could be imagined, waking up chained in the dark, my mind preferred to imagine up its own demons. But the very idea that I could find myself the victim of something more than an ill-conceived prank was almost beyond my comprehension. Such things happened in the pictures, but not in real life, and certainly not to an altogether ordinary chap like Bertram W. There were countless easier ways to get hold of a piece of the Wooster millions.

It was some thought along those lines that possessed me to shout, “Is anyone out there? What do you want?”

But Jeeves quickly put a stop to it with a sharp whisper; “Sir! If you could not alert our captor that we are awake!”

“Surely, he must know by now,” I insisted, but quietly.

“It appears not, sir, and I expect it would be better to keep it that way.” Jeeves spoke with such dire tones that I dared not argue.

Instead, I moved a bit against the cold, hard floor, and resumed staring into the ever-shifting shadows. My mind wandered through the dark, conjuring up cruel faces of the sort of man who would do such a thing, worse than any villain on the screen. I envisioned a monster hiding out in the dark, waiting for just the moment to strike. I could almost feel his cold, mouldy breath upon my face. He could have been just in front of me, and I would have never been any the wiser.

I don’t know how long I sat there, curled up for warmth, shifting from position to position in an attempt to find anything resembling comfort without disturbing Jeeves in his efforts, when I heard a louder clank than the rest, and the mass directly at my back began to move.

“Jeeves!” I exclaimed - and then hastily lowered my voice. “Do you have it?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, but there was no note of triumph in his voice.

I nearly fell over as he removed himself from behind me. A moment passed in silence, and then there was a blinding flash. As my eyes clamped shut of their own accord, I fancied I glimpsed a thousand eyes staring at me from all around, waiting for just this moment to strike the killing blow.

Before I had a chance to pry open my eyes, the light faded back into nothing.

“What was that?” I demanded.

“A match, sir.”

“You mean you lit one?”

“Yes, sir.”

I felt desperately in need of a smoke, and I’m sure Jeeves was no different, but it hardly seemed the feudal thing to be helping himself before rallying round to the aid of the young master, still chained up upon the ground.

“Hardly the time for a smoke, what?”

“No, sir. I was endeavoring to ascertain our whereabouts.”

“Oh!” I felt a lightness bubbling up in my chest knowing that Jeeves had the situation well in hand. “Where are we then?’

“I could not say, sir.”

The lightness vanished in flash.

I was casting about in the shadows in desperate search of a silver lining, no matter how thin, when I felt Jeeves’s hands on the manacles that clasped my wrists to the floor. He didn’t even have to light another match, in only a moment, the metal released and my hands were free. My arms and wrists felt rather worse for it all, but I was certain they would right themselves in a shake or two with a few rubs to bring the feeling back into them.

“I say, Jeeves!” I said. “How did you learn to jemmy a lock like that?”

“One picks these things up, sir.”

I reached for a friendly hand to help me to my still tottery feet, but Jeeves, it appeared, had already moved on.

“Jeeves?” I called out quietly, rather feeling like a lost lamb in the endless dark.

“Yes, sir?” the man said distantly, from a few feet in some direction, doubtless occupied with more important matters than shepherding me.

“Oh, dash it all!” I fumbled for my matches and very nearly dropped them, before managing to pull one out and strike it.

My eyes strained and watered against the blinding light, but I forced them to hold. Before the flame reached my fingertips, I had just presence enough to detect stone walls and an iron grate; a cell.

“Save your matches, sir,” Jeeves warned from over by the grate, as soon as I had extinguished the light.

“Are you going to jemmy that one too?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Already, I could hear him working at the metal. Meanwhile, it took all my efforts to lurch upright by my own power on legs too long disused.

“How long have we been in here?” I asked, still a little wobbly.

Jeeves repeated the tired old refrain, “I cannot say, sir.”

I stumbled toward the source of his voice. I was still hobbling through the darkness, when I heard a click and fearsome, grinding shove that echoed deep into the shadows. I had not an instant of warning before Jeeves struck another match, and my teary eyes looked out upon an endless cavern.

I didn’t have long to look before it was all plunged into darkness once more.

“This way, sir,” Jeeves said, grabbing my arm with rather more roughness than was strictly necessary.

He moved quickly, and I did my best to pick my way after him, expecting to trip over something or worse, bump into someone, with every step. Where we were going, I could not say. My only course was to follow Jeeves and hope that he had some clearer idea.

I knew that he had many more important concerns than keeping an eye on the hapless young master, but his brusque indifference made me feel rather like a particularly cumbersome piece of luggage that one sorely regrets bringing along. At the very least, it did little to raise my spirits, which could have used all the boosting they could get in that dank, dark place. I could feel a dangerous presence watching us from the shadows, just waiting to make his move. Icy hands reached for me, pulling at my arms and legs with the cold air.

Abruptly, Jeeves stopped and lit another match, scattering the ghouls that had seemed to close in around us. We had paused in front of a pile of old barrels that seemed to have been there since time immortal - if that’s the expression I want.

“Sir,” Jeeves said, handing me the match.

I took it, though I couldn’t fathom why. To my astonishment, the chap conjured a knife from somewhere and began to work at the nearest barrel. It didn’t take much doing, presumably accounting for the age of the casks, and as the match reached its final legs, I heard a great crack and there he stood bearing a sizable plank of wood, that he quickly lit from the dwindling match, and just like that, we had a torch.

“I say, Jeeves!” I exclaimed, taking it from his hands as he pulled out a few more planks, for when the first one burned out.

He dignified me with no reply, and so I was left to look out on the cavern we had found ourselves in so unceremoniously. Once I had gotten over the sudden burst of light, I discovered that our makeshift torch lent a rather dim, flickering illumination to the place. It kept the shadows at bay, but just barely. It was easy to imagine how much lurked out of sight in the labyrinthine cavern, lined with discarded barrels like an old storehouse fallen into disrepair.

Jeeves soon finished gathering planks and instructed, “After you, sir,” pointing me in some direction - they all looked the same to me.

“If you say so, Jeeves,” I said, though he was the one who seemed to know the way.

I started off as bravely as I could muster, waving the torch this way and that to peel back the darkness and reveal whoever it was that lay lurking within. I hardly felt equal to facing the chap, even with Jeeves at my back - if Jeeves was still there at all; true to form, I heard not a single footstep shuffling after me. I could only hope we escaped before whoever he was that realized we had flown the coop, as it were.

We trailed along the rough stone wall, if nothing else putting some distance between us and the cell in which we had awoken. On our other side, the scattered stacks of barrels eventually gave way to bare earth and even more mouldy air, if it was possible. One swing of the torch revealed a pale stick poking out of the ground at a rummy angle as though it had been stuck there by a weary traveler to mark his way, but had been blown over in the absent weather. I glanced back at it, and realized with a start that it was rather smooth for a stick, more like bone, really.

“Jeeves!” I hissed, sparing but a glance behind me at the man - still present - as I scoured the surroundings for other remains, or worse, spectres. “Is that-?”

“Bone, sir,” Jeeves said, with nary a blink nor a word of comfort.

We kept marching on. That was not the last bone I spied sticking out of the soil between more stacks of barrels. Shades flitted about in the corners of my eyes, but whenever I turned there was nothing there.

Eventually, another wall loomed into view, blocking our way, and propped up against the wall was a steep staircase, almost like a ladder.

“Wait here, sir,” Jeeves instructed, feudal pleasantries gone without a trace, but I minded the chap ordering me around much less than the prospect of being left down in the dark alone, with only the dead for company.

He held out a hand for the torch and I reluctantly handed it over. “You won’t be long will you, Jeeves?”

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

“Jeeves,” I protested.

He regarded me with stern impatience, before turning and ascending the stairs. I watched as the light slowly faded into the upper reaches, its faint glimmer still in sight, but hardly enough to illuminate my own surroundings, and so I was left to be swallowed up by darkness. The inky black was never still; shapes formed and shifted, always something seemed to loom just on the edge of sight. Each breath seemed to bring a spectre whispering by my ear. There could have been anything lurking in that darkness and I would have never known until it was much too late.

Twice, at least, I made to call for Jeeves, but stopped myself short. He needn’t be bothered by the jumpy y. m. His light still bobbed up in the distance, a sign that at least with him all was well - or so I hoped that no danger had befallen him, leaving the torch to sputter behind him. At the thought, I made to call for him again, but again I held back. After all, what good could I do him? The most I could do was needlessly trouble the man and give away our location besides.

I don’t know how long he took, my watch useless in the pitch black. To me, it felt like eternity, to him I couldn’t say. But, after however long it was, eventually, Jeeves came back down and instructed me, once again, to take the lead, torch in hand. It was a delicate business. The stairs creaked and echoed loudly beneath my feet - I couldn’t fathom how Jeeves could have done it all so quietly. More than once, the rail threatened to slip from my one-handed grasp, but I grasped it just in time and held it tighter to be sure.

Of course, not a word, nor even a sound came from behind. I only rediscovered I was not alone when I stepped out onto a landing and Jeeves stepped up after me.

The flickering light of the torch revealed a large tunnel that vanished into darkness in either direction - not that we could see very far - and along the floor, on either side of us, ran a pair of tell-tale tracks.

“It’s an underground tunnel!” I exclaimed, my voice echoing along its length and width.

“Quiet, sir,” Jeeves still insisted, glancing up and down the tunnel, as though he expected our kidnapper to be lurking just out of sight.

“If we just follow it, we’ll be sure to get to a station, what?” I continued, my voice now a whisper, but no less eager for Jeeves’s dour tone.

“Yes, sir,” Jeeves said, but he seemed none too pleased about it.

We climbed up onto the side of the tunnel, out of the way of any passing trains, and again, Jeeves directed me to take the lead with the torch as he followed silently after.

It was a dark and lonely tunnel. A few times I thought I may have heard rumbling off in the distance, but otherwise it was abandoned, left to the ghouls that I now knew lurked beneath. Faces seemed to leer at us from the darkness, but wherever I shone the torch, there was nothing, only Jeeves and I marching in silence. I wondered if it ever would reach an end, if the tunnel really did come out in a station or if it was just an unfinished construction, just a little track of rail and nothing more.

And then, I glimpsed a yellow glimmer in the distance.

“Jeeves!” I cried.

He glanced at the lights ahead, and then, to my surprise, abruptly turned his back to me. But whatever he saw that made him turn, it was not an instant too soon, as something came flying at us out of the darkness from just the opposite side of where the lights had appeared. It was a rope, a sort of lasso, that Jeeves flicked aside as though he were waving away a bothering fly.

He backed me away, toward the wall of the tunnel. I tried to peer past him, but I could make out nothing. For a moment we stood in silence in our little flickering dome of light in the dark.

And then, suddenly, a voice sounded from directly behind me; “J-R,” it boomed, echoing around the tunnel.

I turned to face it, brandishing the torch, but again, there was nothing there.

“You won’t escape!” the voice thundered - in English, but with a sort of rummy accent, not French or like any other language I’d ever heard.

Jeeves had drawn out the knife he’d used to pry the planks out of the barrel and was holding it up like he meant to use it.

The man only laughed. His voice seemed to come from everywhere all at once, as though we were surrounded by a legion of jeering ghosts. Jeeves didn’t flinch. The chap had more  _ sang froid _ than I could ever have imagined, and if my man was so bold, who was I to be hiding?

“I say,” I called out, my voice high and nervous, “who are you? What is it you want with us?”

Again the voice seemed to come from behind me, just out of reach of the dim torchlight; “You remember me, don’t you, J? Still playing with knives, I see.”

“Jeeves,” I whispered, “Is he another one of your cousins?”

You see, by this point, I had met a few of Jeeves’s other cousins over the years of our acquaintance, and “Jay” seemed to be Jeeves’s nickname among them, though he was none too pleased with the epithet. It may seem more than a little odd that one of Jeeves’s cousins was coming after us like this, but his cousins were a rather unusual lot. Jeeves’s cousin Bunny was a perfectly amiable chap, but he had also been the accomplice of the infamous burglar - and another of Jeeves’s cousins - A.J. Raffles. And Jeeves’s cousin, Dorian, had an altogether unsavory reputation. But it doesn’t do to hold a chap’s family against him - after all, I wouldn’t get anywhere if I was judged on the merits of my Aunt Agatha.

The voice jeered again. “Cousins? How quaint. Would a cousin do  _ this _ ?”

Upon the final, triumphant note, a glowing face materialized in the darkness, rushing toward us. Jeeves did not hesitate for an instant; he slashed at it with his knife. But it only flickered and slowly drew back. It was no human face; just a pair of eyes, hovering in nothingness, blazing like smoldering embers.

It could only have been a ghost. I could fathom no other explanation for the bright burning eyes suspended in the air. And then a low rumbling began, as though all the dead buried below were beginning to rise from their shallow graves. It grew louder and louder with the clanking of a thousand deathly chains and then an enormous, blinding pair of eyes emerged from the darkness.

I barely had time to flatten myself against the wall as a train barreled past.

The next thing I knew as I emerged from the gale was a tightening around my throat. I let out a shout and clutched at the coarse rope that threatened at my windpipe. Jeeves turned toward me, his knife drawn.

“Jeeves-” I began.

A quiet tutting from behind cut me short. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you - or anything for that matter.”

A single, sharp tug on the rope yanked me backward. I nearly tottered off the narrow platform, onto the tracks - or onto the rope - but a cold bony hand, like a skeleton’s, grabbed my wrist in time. I may have let out an undignified yelp, as any chap would have done in my place.

But it was no walking skeleton who had grabbed me. At first glance, in the sputtering torchlight, he seemed to be an ordinary chap, dressed in the fish and soup, for a night on the town or what not. But there was something rummy about his face; it was a close approximation, but there was something distinctly  _ off _ about the whole thing. It seemed excessively smooth, like a mask. And his eyes glinted yellow in the low light.

“If you told me, I wouldn’t have believed it,” the chap said, taunting. His words could not have been said to have been directed at me. No, all of his attention was on Jeeves, standing frozen, knife still in hand, a meter or so away. “You won’t be needing that,” he continued, with a tug at my rope - evoking another yelp.

Jeeves made to return the knife to inside his jacket.

“Drop it,” the man ordered.

Jeeves complied.

“Come with me. I have something special prepared for you.” The man gave my rope an extra tug for good measure.

“Jeeves!” I shouted, not sure whether I was begging him to run away or do anything but leave me to my fate. 

“Quiet!” the man thundered.

The rope tightened around my neck and I found myself gasping for breath. My hands grasped at the rope of their own accord, but pull as I might I couldn’t get it loose. All I could see was Jeeves before me, frozen, watching with no more expression than a particularly stern stuffed frog.

And then, as I felt the world slipping away, the rope slackened and I stood gasping for breath.

With another tug, we marched off down the tunnel. The man forced Jeeves into the lead, followed by the last of the Woosters, and then the horrible chap himself.

After a little while on the march, when the pain around my neck had settled to a dull stinging, I got up the courage to ask, “Who are you? What is this all about?”

“You really want to know?” the man asked, with a sort of perverse glee.

I swallowed reflexively.

The rope tugged at my neck and I stopped short.

“Turn around,” he said.

I slowly turned to face our captor. To my surprise, his free hand - the one not holding the other end of the rope, I mean - was raised to his chin. In a single fluid movement, he pulled off his sculpted mask. What he revealed underneath I could hardly consider a face. He looked rather more like a living skeleton, his mangled skin drawn tight around the bones, with deep sunken pits for eyes and a broad flat nothing where a nose ought have been.

I yelped, stumbling back away from him until the rope caught.

“Yes, horrible isn’t it? Monstrous?” he sneered. “All thanks to J.”

“Jeeves?” I exclaimed, with a glance over my shoulder - he was still there, standing still and silent as ever. “You mean to say he did this to you? What rot!”

“It could have been with that very knife. A single  _ slice _ ” - he swept his arm at me and I leaped away, only to be caught by the rope - “is all it took. Infection did the rest.”

“That’s impossible! This must all be some terrible mistake!” I glanced back at Jeeves again, hoping beyond hope that he could provide some miraculous solution, but he stood unmoving and unmoved by my pleading eyes.

“Oh, it’s no mistake. J may appear human, but perhaps you were right to call us cousins; inside we’re the same, J and I. I just look the part, thanks to him.”

“Jeeves would never-!”

“Sir,” Jeeves said sharply, cutting me off mid-protest.

I glanced between him and the creature before us. “You mean to say you did as he said?”

Jeeves made no objection.

Something rummy clicked in the back of my mind, connecting one mark of violence with another. I turned on the creature with some measure of outrage, shaking a little with the force of it. “Then you’re responsible for Jeeves’s scars?”

Upon this point, I may need to interject a little clarification. Though Jeeves is now a most respectable chap, in fact he had a rather rough time of it at some point in his youth, and is covered by - I understate it to say - a multitude of scars beneath the livery, which I happened to glance upon one occasion when Jeeves, typically the very picture of health, chanced to fall ill and I was doing everything I could to look after him. I received no explanation as to the origins of these scars, which I presumed to be the result of some unfortunate accident, other than a reassurance from Dr. Watson, his family doctor, that they were old, and that Jeeves would probably never tell me whence they came. But now it all seemed to come together.

The terrible thing before me merely shrugged at the charge. “We all gave each other a few scratches, some worse than others. I did my best to leave a few marks on J in return before we got out, but back then I didn’t know the curse he had given me. Now, I know all too well and it’s your turn to pay the price!” With that he yanked on my rope and urged Jeeves onward into the dark.

“Wait! Where are you taking us?” I exclaimed, but my protest went unheeded, but for another pull at the rope.

It was not long before the creature tugged on the rope to stop me - I choked a little as it tightened again around my neck. He tied a pair of blindfolds, first around Jeeves’s eyes, and then around my own, and the world fell into darkness once more. I heard a door creaking open a little ways to my left, before Jeeves and I were pushed through the portal, into a little corner, like a closet with floors that creaked with my every step. The rest of our journey remains to me a whirl of tight spaces and darkness, narrow crawls and dizzying ladders. A few times, I heard people talking as though through a door - ordinary people going about their ordinary lives, at one point I even fancied I heard a snatch of song. I thought to cry out, but the creature, understanding my thoughts, tightened the rope around my neck in a clear warning, and so we continued on in silence.

We may have stumbled for miles through winding passageways, I couldn’t say. I only know that eventually, we stopped. The rope loosened around my neck, and I was shoved forward. Behind me, I heard a door slam shut.

“You can remove your blindfolds!” the creature proclaimed, as though he were a great magician showing off his latest trick.

I tentatively lifted my hand to my face and slid off the black cloth.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light of day in the heart of a forest. Jeeves stood beside me, his fish and soup rather worse for the wear, but otherwise unharmed, looking out on the woods as though we had done nothing more than go for a walk in the countryside, and a particularly dull one at that.

“Enjoy it,” the creature said, “because it is the last sight you will ever see!” It sounded like he was speaking from just beside me, but when I turned with a jump to face him, there was nothing there.

“Where are we?” I demanded.

He seemed not to hear me, or if he did, he paid me no heed. “It will be a fitting end, him first, of course, and then, at last, you will succumb. That’s what you get for daring to live an ordinary life in the sun while you forced me to hide in shadows. She would have loved me if not for this face! If not for what you did to me! It’s only fair that I take it all away from you!”

Jeeves - to whom I could only presume the whole rambling, incoherent accusation was addressed - seemed as deaf as the creature that was ranting at him. Instead, Jeeves had set off into the woods only to find his way blocked by a tall pane. We weren’t in the woods at all, you see, but in a room. A small room, enclosed by six walls, each paned from the floor to the bright ceiling with mirrors that reflected a forest at us. Only one thing in the room was solid aside from Jeeves and myself; in one corner was a tree with one long branch sticking out toward us, a foot or so above our heads. And on the floor, under the branch, lay a noose.

“Let the tortures begin!” the creature shouted and an instant later I heard a sort of metallic grinding noise.

The light above grew brighter, beating down upon my head and shoulders. Heat seemed to rise from walls and floor, until we found ourselves in a steaming jungle. The soup and fish - mine also rather worse for the wear - suddenly seemed suffocating. I pulled off my jacket before turning to Jeeves with a desperate eye. We were at the mercy of a madman, the precise nature of his plan, I could not say, but I knew how it ended and I was already starting to feel the heat wearing me down.

“Jeeves, I hope you have a mighty fine wheeze to get us out of this one,” I said, just about pleading.

“No, sir,” was all Jeeves replied.

I don’t really know if the chap heard me at all - he certainly didn’t glance in my direction. It was the wall that captured his full attention. He had remained beside it through all of our captor’s mad rambling and was now occupied with running his fingers along the edges between the mirrors, no doubt searching for a convenient crack.

“I suppose I’ll just sit down then, as not to get in the way,” I said.

“Very good, sir,” he assented, giving a clear indication that would be for the best.

He wasn’t so wrong to say it after all, I concluded, as I slumped against the far wall, fanning myself idly. It was my fault we were in this dashed mess - I was the one who had been caught by the neck at the inopportune moment, and Jeeves had been dragged down with me. And it wasn’t like I was any use to him; he was the one who could pick locks and break traps. He had made it perfectly clear how much patience he had for Bertram W. under the circs. and I couldn’t very well blame him. I could name a good dozen chaps at least who would be more useful to have along when one finds oneself in the soup - and we were at the very bottom of the ocean as far as soup was concerned. But all of that aside, Jeeves’s indifferent gaze - or, rather more often, no gaze at all - really did sting. I’d thought the chap had some affection for the young master, but it seemed it had all just been feudal spirit.

One thing about such suffocating heat is that it rather turns one’s mind to mush - however much of a mind a chap possessed beforehand, that is. Jeeves seemed largely unaffected by the whole ordeal, but for me, coherent thought rather fell to pieces in that sweltering jungle, already exhausted from everything else we had endured. And so my mind meandered from none-too-happy thoughts of Jeeves to even darker fears about our inhuman captor and what worse tortures awaited us, until eventually, I must have faded into a nightmarish slurry of ghostly faces and sweltering heat.

By the time I awoke, what passed for day in this sweltering jungle had turned to night. The air was no less hot, and a bright full moon seemed to shine above, its bluish light replacing the yellow of before, perhaps a little bit darker. I couldn’t tell if Jeeves had moved from where he was when I dozed off; he was still feeling along the wall, seemingly attempting to pry one of the panels from where it was mounted.

“Jeeves,” I croaked. My mouth felt like cotton and my dry throat scratched. My legs wobbled as I tried to force myself to my feet.

Jeeves barely glanced over his shoulder.

I tried to push myself upright, staring out into the dark rainforest. Despite the bright moonlight up above, the jungle beyond loomed shadowy and dangerous, even though I had some distant awareness that there was a wall between us and it. Nothing stirred in the hot, still air, but I tried to ready myself for something, anything that lurked in the gloom.

Then, suddenly, I heard a low rumble, like the purr of a cat, or maybe more like the growl of a dog. I spun around to face the source of the noise, but all I could make out were dark shapes on distant branches high above.

And then there came another growl, from behind. I turned again, and I thought I saw a shadow slink out of view from the corner of my eye, but when I faced it, there was nothing there.

I backed toward Jeeves on instinct. “There’s something out there,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Sir,” was all Jeeves said, sounding rather tired of it all.

“I say there’s something out there! I heard it growling!”

And just then, there was another growl, certainly loud enough for us both to hear it.

I dropped my voice. “Jeeves, do you think he’s let in a leopard?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, it must be something!” I exclaimed.

“I couldn’t say, sir,” Jeeves said, with more than a touch of impatience.

“Well, what are we going to do about it?” I demanded, frightened all the more for Jeeves’s indifference.

“I don’t believe there is anything to do, sir.”

I was coming up on hysterics at this point, and I believe I shouted, “And let it eat me for all you care?” A little quieter, but no less frantically, I continued, “I know it’s my fault we’re adrift in the soup and I know I’m not the sort of chap you want in a pinch, but I’m going to die in here too! Doesn’t my life mean anything to you, anything at all?”

“Sir!” Jeeves snapped at last, catching my wrist in his hand so tightly that it hurt.

I let out a yelp and he loosened his grip, taking both of my hands in his for good measure.

He looked me firmly in the eye for the first time since we had awoken in that dank cell what felt like ages ago. “Sir, I will get you out of here if it is the last thing that I do.”

“Jeeves,” I said, my voice tight.

“I doubt that E-Q has procured any manner of wild beast,” Jeeves continued. “I expect that he is merely simulating the noise.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, sir. I believe that the torture” - I balked at the word, even though we were in the midst of it - “he intends is primarily psychological.”

Jeeves met my eyes again, this time his gaze was searching, as though he was looking for evidence that the torture had taken its toll. I couldn’t have looked away from his dark eyes even if I’d wanted to, and at the time I was feeling rather like I could have stared forever.

“You should rest, sir,” Jeeves said at last, his voice soft as though attending at a sickbed.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?” I insisted, even as he guided me back into the middle of the room - I only belatedly noticed that he was still holding my hands, but I had no desire to withdraw them.

“No, sir, preserve your strength. The more you move, the more water you use up, and the less time we have.”

“Are  _ you _ all right? I don’t want any of this ‘last thing you do’ nonsense, what?”

Jeeves turned cold again. “Sir, I can withstand more than this.”

“If you’re certain,” I said, though I wasn’t too happy about the man working himself to the bone like this on my account.

“I expect it’ll be a little bit cooler here, sir,” Jeeves said, stopping in the middle of the room.

Though it wasn’t really necessary, he helped me sit back down, my coat on the ground beneath me, apparently to act as insulation. Then, he went back to scouring the walls, as I languished, trying to ignore the burning heat and my aching throat and the dark jungle around us. I tossed and turned as a fly buzzed around me, always just out of sight.

Eventually, some of my half-baked thoughts managed to congeal into a somewhat coherent question. “Jeeves, you mentioned an ‘Eecue’?”

“Our captor, sir,” Jeeves replied, not turning away from the wall. After a moment, he elaborated, “That is the name I knew him by.”

“Is he really a cousin of yours?”

“I am afraid, so, sir.” Jeeves said, with a little finality to his tone.

“Did you really-?” I stopped short - I already knew the answer, there was no reason to force Jeeves to say it. “I mean to say, why? What happened between you and Eecue?”

I didn’t really expect Jeeves to answer, but to my surprise he said, “Such quarrels were not an infrequent occurrence among my cousins, sir.”

“What? But surely not! Didn’t you grow up with Bunny and Raffles?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you all got into fights with knives and what not?”

“Yes, sir.” Jeeves was starting to sound a little impatient, tired of it all.

“But how? I know kids can get rough sometimes, but you weren’t very well living out on the streets in gangs - were you?”

“No, sir.”

“Dash it all, Jeeves, what were you doing?” I exclaimed.

“I would rather not think of it, sir.”

“I don’t see why not, it couldn’t very well be worse than all this” - I gestured at the dark, steaming jungle around us.

“I could not say, sir.”

It was baffling, utterly incomprehensible. I mean, cousins chasing each other around with pails full of water and what not was one thing, and maybe it would occasionally come to blows, but knife fights and perhaps worse was all rather beyond belief. I didn’t know what to make of the half of it.

Jeeves said nothing more, and so I was left to my ambling thoughts of wild children, roaming the moors in wild hordes. Eventually, I dozed again, this time against the hard floor. It wasn’t much more restful than before, but my nightmares were perhaps a little less violent.

When I fully came to again, it was day and the jungle had been changed for a vast desert. It felt like we had been hiking across the sand for weeks, perhaps months. My throat burned and I wondered if I couldn’t feel some coarse grains in my shoes.

Jeeves was still standing at the wall, staring off into the endless dunes.

I stumbled to my feet and shambled over to the man with a croak that ought have been his name, but didn’t quite succeed at taking form.

“Jeeves,” I tried again, “have you found anything?” I asked it hopefully, but I confess my hopes were not high.

Jeeves seemed to startle away from the view. “No, sir,” he said at last, his voice as rough as mine.

My hopes already weren’t high, but to hear him say it dampened them further still; if Jeeves couldn’t find a way out, that was it. Still, I clapped him on the back in an attempt at reassuring the chap. “You’ll find something, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeeves said sharply, pulling himself back up to full height, “failure is not permitted.”

“There isn’t anything I can do?”

“No, sir.”

He turned back to the endless expanse of desert and resumed prodding at the walls around us. I lingered beside him, my hand still on his shoulder. I attempted to swallow, but there was nothing to force down; my mouth felt like it was full of sand.

“You’re sure you’re all right, what? You know I couldn’t very well manage without you - if anything happened to you.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeeves said distantly, and I had a rummy feeling he had gone beyond my reach, so to speak.

I cast about, searching for anything that could help us in this barren waste, but I knew nothing about surviving, in deserts or otherwise. Without Jeeves, I would have been utterly lost. And then, on the horizon, I spotted a glimmer of hope; a reflection in the sand that could have only meant one thing.

“Water!” I croaked. “An oasis!”

Jeeves turned around. “Sir!”

“I say! It’s right over that dune!” I pointed out over the sand and sure enough I could see it clearly now, the tell-tale glint of water, perhaps I could even make out the green frond of a palm.

“Sir, it’s all an illusion. There are only mirrors.”

“It’s water, Jeeves!” I insisted.

And then we both heard it; the sound of water running, rippling down a river bed and dropping down from above. I tilted my head up to catch a drop, but there was only the bright desert sun beating down upon us.

“Sir, I expect that is also E-Q’s doing.”

“What rot!” I exclaimed, fumbling toward the oasis, from which I was certain the sound beckoned.

But Jeeves caught me first, and pushed me gently to the ground. “Rest, sir. Save your strength.”

“But I’m so thirsty, Jeeves, and it’s right there!”

“I know, sir. I’ll find a way out, sir, just wait here.”

I didn’t have the strength to argue. I waited on the ground as Jeeves returned to the walls, pushing and pulling this way and that. I watched him in a daze, and at some point I may have faded for want of water, because the next thing I knew he had slumped to the ground against the wall.

I struggled over to him, calling out to him to the extent that I could still draw sound from my parched throat.

“Rest, sir,” he said, his voice nearer to a whisper, “I will find a way.” He spoke with such determination, but his eyes seemed dazed and unfocused, as though he couldn’t even see me.

He tried to haul himself to his feet, but he wobbled and his legs folded under him. I sprang toward him in an attempt to catch his fall.

I gave him a shake. “Jeeves! Stay with me!”

“There is no cause for concern, sir,” he murmured. He tried again to shove himself upright, but again he faltered and, at last, collapsed where he sat.

As you may very well know by now, without Jeeves, I am nothing more than an ordinary chap, or rather less than your average chap, to tell the truth. Throughout our ordeal, Jeeves had made it readily apparent that he could do just about anything, and if we had any chance of making it out alive, he was the chap to do it. But now I found myself short one Jeeves, tallying up to exactly one Wooster facing an endless expanse of desert for both our sakes, and beyond it, a madman. Panic rose like bile in my throat, but I pushed it down. There was only one thing to be done; to cease thinking like Bertram W. and begin to think like Jeeves.

My head swam in the sweltering heat. I felt rather near doubling over myself, but still, I tried to soldier on, if not on my feet, then on my knees. In the distance, I could still see an oasis buried amidst the dunes.

Suddenly, I heard a scuffling sound, like something was moving on the other side of a distant dune. I bolted upright.

“Who’s there?” I believe I managed to choke out.

Jeeves stirred weakly.

The shuffling only drew closer. If I closed my eyes, it sounded like feet on a hardwood floor, and that, I realized with a start, could have only been our captor. I thought to flee, but there was nowhere to go, only sand as far as the eye could see. All we could do was wait and wonder what new, fresh horrors lay in store for us. I tried to peer through the glare of the midday sun, searching for a skeletal figure coming up over the crest of a dune, but I could make out nothing but the barren sands.

Abruptly, the shuffling stopped and was replaced by a quiet clinking. And then, to my surprise, the desert-wall swung open with a rush of cool air.

Standing in the doorway that had materialized out of the desert was not our captor, but a rather rummy chap with bright green eyes, wearing a pointed cap, who I thought I recognized from somewhere long ago and far away, as it must have been.

“Come! Hurry! We don’t have much time!” he said in hushed tones.

“What? How? Who?” I stammered as I struggled upward “Is this- are you here to rescue us?”

“Yes, now hurry!”

The chap helped pull me to my feet and between the two of us - the other chap did most of the work, really - we hauled Jeeves up and surged out into the blissfully cool air.

We emerged from days and nights, or so it seemed, of walking through the desert into what gave every appearance of being a perfectly ordinary bedroom, as though it had all been a prolonged nightmare. I couldn’t say I recognized the place; it looked to be a woman’s room, if I wasn’t mistaken, it’s only oddity that it seemed to have been long abandoned, coated in dust and moth eaten in the extreme. And there was the door, still open, looking in on that dreadful chamber and the endless desert inside.

We struggled across the room and Jeeves and I just about fell onto the bed in the corner - I barely managed to remain seated upright and Jeeves sat propped up beside me, rapidly blinking to.

“Water,” I gasped.

The rummy chap who had rescued us quickly went to bring a pair of cups brimming with that precious life-giving fluid. We both grabbed the cups and drank like a drowning fellow gulps for air, and, in fact, I did breathe some of it in and ended up doubled over coughing until I could take in another gulp.

I downed a few good cups of the needful before our rescuer interrupted, insisting, “We must hurry. He will not be away for long.”

It was only then that I had the presence of mind to realize that our rescuer was the very same chap who had offered such a cryptic warning upon my arrival at the theater, what felt like eons ago, in another world entirely. Daroga, he called himself, which I have since learned is something of a title rather than a name.

“Right-o!” I exclaimed, and tottered to my feet - though the instant I removed the cup from my lips, my mouth again felt parched. “Jeeves, can you walk all right?”

Jeeves was still seated on the bed, half-emptied cup in hand, eyeing our rescuer.

“I say, Jeeves,” I tried again.

“Sir?” he said, as though he was only just noticing anything had been said at all.

I felt a pang of fear at the thought that Jeeves was still far from his usual implacable self, and we had only just leapt from the frying pan into who knew what fires that waited. But at the very least, we weren’t alone, and as far as we were considered, things were beginning to look up, however cautiously.

“Do you think you could manage walking, Jeeves?” I asked. “I don’t know if we could carry you.”

“Yes, I believe so, sir,” Jeeves said haltingly - far from a good sign.

But when I helped him to his feet, he seemed to be able to stand all right, and after downing the rest of the cup of water, he seemed, if not right as rain, at least mobile.

“Keep your hand at the level of your eyes,” the daroga instructed us, “as though you are holding a pistol, but without firing. That is the only way you will be safe from him.”

The daroga actually pulled out a pair of pistols at this juncture, one of which he handed to me. I confess, I fumbled with it a little, before hastily pocketing the thing; I did a little hunting, like any well-brought up youth, but I was hardly a quick draw or any of that.

“Hope that you do not need it,” the daroga said, before leading us on.

The room seemed to have only two doors; one to the desert and another to a washroom, but we took a third. It seemed the daroga knew the place rather well, for he quickly found a button concealed in the wall that upon being pressed made a part of the wall swing open, giving us entry into another chamber.

“I say, you know this place rather well, what?” I remarked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” the daroga said. “Now, quickly!”

Unlike the first room, which at one time would have been quite cheery, if a little oddly decorated with statuettes of grasshoppers and scorpions and what not upon the mantle, the second was rather grim in the dim light of the daroga’s lantern; adorned in black like a house of mourning, with blood red accents, and furnished with a coffin, as well as an organ, as though to suit a musically minded vampire.

“You know this Eecue chap then?” I asked, taking it all in, as it were.

“You are referring to Erik?” the daroga replied.

“Yes, the chap who wears a mask, apparently kidnaps people and puts them in death traps and what not.”

Furtively glancing about for the same, the daroga beckoned us on, out through a door of the usual sort, which led down a flight of stairs, into what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary flat, with a dining room, and drawing room, and so on, the likes of which could have been found anywhere. But there was something eerie about even such an ordinary place in the dark, and every reflection brought to mind our captor’s glowing eyes.

“I take it this is his flat, what?” I added.

“Yes,” the daroga said with a sigh. “I saved his life once, and have come to regret it ever since.”

“Really?” I asked. “Say, then how did you find us here? You don’t exactly sound like bosom pals.”

“Erik has been restless. He mentioned an Englishman had come to Paris on whom he wanted revenge. When you went missing, I knew.”

At this point, we passed out through the front door of the flat, not onto a Paresian rue, but onto a rocky island on the edge of a vast underground lake in an even more vast cavern.

“I say!” I exclaimed, stopping short on the threshold. “Where are we?”

“Deep under the opera house,” the daroga said, “in Erik’s domain.”

“You mean to say that he lives down here?”

“Yes. Now, this way, quickly, before he discovers you are missing!” Without giving us another second to catch our breath, the dargoa hurried us to the shore of the lake, where a small rowboat sat waiting.

We ran to the shore, Jeeves and I stumbling as much as walking, my head still light for want of water - my throat felt as dry as it had in the endless desert. We had almost made it when Jeeves seemed to falter. I didn’t see exactly what happened; I only belatedly turned around to find the daroga regaining his balance a few feet away, and Jeeves standing in front of me, as steady as ever, one of the daroga’s pistols raised, pointed straight ahead, toward the house from which we had come.

Just a few yards away, between us and the house, was our captor, Erik, himself, his yellow eyes glinting in the light of the daroga’s lamp as he approached.

I hardly had time to take in the scene before the daroga shouted, “No! Don’t shoot him! Come, we must hurry!”

As far as I could see, Jeeves made no indication that he had so much as heard the chap. This was another side to the man that I had never seen before, but after everything that had occured, it no longer seemed so unlikely or even surprising that he might go through with it.

“Come on, Jeeves,” I urged - not that I had any particular love for that Erik chap, in fact I may have rested better if he was gone, but the daroga’s plea had struck something of a chord in me, and it suddenly seemed a terrible thing to do.

Jeeves didn’t lower the gun, but he didn’t shoot either.

At the daroga’s exclamation, Erik had stopped in his tracks, still some yards away from us.

“Sir, the rowboat, if you will,” Jeeves said, brooking no argument and not taking his eyes, or the pistol off of Erik.

“Jeeves,” I attempted.

“Sir,” Jeeves replied sharply.

I complied, and moving slowly backward, Jeeves followed me to the little boat, but didn’t get in himself.

The daroga remained on the shore, glancing between Jeeves and Erik.

“I say, come on!” I called out to him.

“Sir,” Jeeves cautioned.

“The chap saved our lives. And he must know the way out of here if anyone does!”

“Very good, sir,” Jeeves said, but he sounded none too pleased about it. He motioned for the daroga to come over to us.

Between the two of them, they pushed the boat into the water and jumped inside, rather awkwardly on Jeeves’s part, as he did all that without once taking the pistol off of Erik. Jeeves sat down beside me and directed the daroga to the other end of the boat.

“Jeeves,” I protested, “this is bally rot!”

“We must move quickly,” the daroga cut in. “He often swims in the water, waiting to trap trespassers.”

Jeeves nodded for the daroga to go ahead and row us across the glassy subterranean lake. Though Jeeves sat tall in the bow, as it were, I could see that he was in no shape to do it - our ordeal had taken its toll. He wasn’t the only one; the water lapping against the boat called to me and my parched and aching throat. The meager cups I had gulped down in the abandoned bedroom felt so far distant that I wondered if I hadn’t dreamed it up entirely. A strange house on an island in the middle of an underground lake, that housed a desert and a jungle was more the stuff of dreams, or rather nightmares, than reality. I believe it was at this point that I also became keenly aware of a gnawing hunger. I didn’t know how long it had been since I had last eaten.

“I would not advise it, sir,” Jeeves said, having followed my longing gaze to the water below.

“You’re right.” I just had to pluck up the good old Wooster spirit and brave the trek across the lake.

It seemed immeasurably vast in the darkness, glassy and smooth, until it gave way to nothingness.

We were in the thick of it, adrift in the lonesome pool of light shed by the daroga’s lantern, when the chap spoke up from his rowing.

“It really was you who did that to him?” the daroga asked, and I could tell he wasn’t talking to me.

Jeeves remained silent, and I expected he wouldn’t respond, but he inclined his head in a shallow nod. His features betrayed nothing.

“You have ruined his life,” the daroga said. “If not for you, he could be like any ordinary man.”

I made to protest, but Jeeves stayed me with a raised hand.

“I do not deny my part in E-Q’s present state,” Jeeves said, “but he could never have been an ordinary man.”

“And Jeeves would know,” I put in, “they are cousins after all.”

The daroga nodded. “Erik told me that you are the same type of monster as he is; that you only hide it better.”

“Now see here!” I exclaimed. “It’s not right to judge a chap on his relations. Just because Jeeves and Erik are cousins, Jeeves doesn’t go around kidnapping chaps and throwing them in torture chambers on his days off!”

The daroga seemed taken aback by my exclamation. “Perhaps you are right,” he said, but still he eyed Jeeves warily.

“That is very kind, sir,” Jeeves said quietly, his hand upon my sleeve.

I only remember the remainder of our journey in flashes. I don’t know how he did it, the still expanse of water all looked the same to me, as though it were another infinite illusion in Erik’s torture chamber, but the daroga steered us true, and eventually we landed on the opposite shore. From there we wound upward, along a long sloping path that went around the outside of the opera house. We stopped frequently, Jeeves and I both still wobbly, but never for long. 

Finally the empty road gave way to a maze of furnaces. I was ready to cheer at our first sign of civilization, but the daroga warned that we had a long ways yet to go. As we passed by them, the furnaces burned with all the heat of the desert that stung my parched throat and made my head swim.

From there, we came upon a stairwell that went up into a cellar that served as storage for the opera house, full of set pieces from countless productions; medieval towers and grand country houses, and even a backdrop of a jungle that we hurried past. And then, it was but a quick jaunt up into the area behind the stage that we had been touring when Erik first overtook us. We could even hear the muffled sound of dancers practicing their routines as we scurried through the halls.

At last, we burst out, blinking, into the light of day.

The daroga tipped his hat to us and made to depart, as though he had merely chanced to make our acquaintance during the matinee, and now had another engagement to attend to.

“Thank you!” I said, shaking his hand, and I don’t think I could ever thank him enough. In fact, I believe I said it as I tried to press on him some remuneration; however much I still had on me.

The daroga shook his head. “You are very kind, but I do not want for money.”

“You’re sure?” I insisted.

But the man held firm.

“I say,” I said, “it was very  _ preux _ of you to rescue us, risking a lot of personal danger, what? Why did you do it? I mean to say, we’re not personal friends or anything. For all you knew, Jeeves was as bad as Erik.”

“What else was I to do? Leave you to die?” the daroga said simply. And with that, he took his leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooster met Raffles and Bunny in [Jeeves and the Amateur Cracksman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655242) and Dorian Grey in [The Appearance of Dorian Grey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26049079). He discovered Jeeves's scars in [Jeeves Gets Sick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798197).


	2. Above the Trap-Doors

Jeeves and I stood on the front steps of the opera house. Myself, staring out at the world, looking out upon that busy Paresian rue as though it were all new to me; people and places I had feared I would never see again, and now looked strange to my eyes as though I had spent eons under that opera house rather than mere days. Jeeves looked upon it all with a cold expression, a touch sharper than stuffed frog.

“What now, Jeeves?” I asked, baffled by my own freedom, now that I had it.

“The hotel, sir, to retrieve our belongings,” he said, without pausing for an instant in thought. “And then I expect it is time we return to London.”

“Right ho, Jeeves!” I exclaimed, and we set off through the busy streets, full of people going about their lives, little aware of what a wonder it was to be alive.

It was no longer early ‘morn, but I fancied I could hear the lark singing on the wing, and if I peeked at one of the gardens we passed, I expected I would spy a snail doing whatever it is that snails do upon thorns. I may have even begun to sing a little.

We were passing by a cafe when a delectable scent hit me full in the nostrils and began tugging at me with such force that it took a goodish bit of willpower not to turn on the spot and follow it straight to the source. I did stop, however, and declare, “The hotel can wait, Jeeves. A spot of lunch is in order, what?”

To my surprise the man hesitated, though I knew he must be as famished as myself. “We could acquire something to bring with us and eat as we walk, sir.” There was something dashed rummy in the man’s tone, as though he was the one giving the orders and what not. I hadn’t really paid it much heed when we were in the dark of the dungeon because of the direness of the circs., but back on the surface it was a different matter.

“In a bit of a rush, Jeeves?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” he said rather gravely.

“You don’t think that cousin of yours is still after us, do you?”

“I couldn’t say, sir. It is a possibility, sir, and one I am not inclined to risk.”

“You think there is a risk? Even with all these people about?”

“Yes, sir.”

Well, that settled it, then. We took a baguette for the road and both gulped down some water, and then we hurried back to the hotel to pick back up the luggage. The hotel was of the right sort, with proper staff and classy clientele, not the sort of place where you expect everyone to turn and stare as you walk in. I glanced at Jeeves and he at me, and I abruptly became aware that we were both looking rather worse for the wear, like we had just spent the night sleeping on the street, if not worse, and certainly not like any respectable chaps.

It took quite a bit of smooth-talking on the part of Jeeves to convince the proprietors of the place that we were exactly who we claimed to be and that we had come by some rather serious misfortune in our travels, though nothing nearly so bad as what had actually occurred, of course - that would have been entirely beyond belief, even I found I was beginning to have trouble believing it all. At last, they granted us a room key and ushered us up as quickly as they could.

The first thing we set about doing was drinking as much water as we could swallow, until my stomach badly ached, and then we began to tear at the baguette.

“Not too quickly, sir,” Jeeves cautioned, but he could barely hold back himself.

Once the immediate necessaries were essentially sated - most of the baguette set aside for later in an expression of remarkable restraint - I declared, “I say a bath would be in order, what?”

“I would not advise it, sir,” Jeeves said, sounding a little more like himself, though there was still a sternness to his tone that suggested he was ready to offer rather more argument than is customary. “We have taken long enough already. I suggest a change of clothes now, and a bath can wait until we return to London.” It was quite unlike him to send the young master about in anything less than perfect order, but those were the circs.

“Very well, Jeeves,” I said.

We both quickly changed into traveling-wear, I handed off the fish and soup to Jeeves for disposal - I had little doubt it was beyond repair - and then we set off for home, still greasy and scruffy, but a little more like ourselves. I had almost forgotten what respectable chaps looked like.

I hardly have to say that the journey was a less than pleasant one. My chipper mood and wide-eyed wonder quickly faded into weary exhaustion, not helped by Jeeves, who made for cold, distant company, even after everything that had passed between us. He seemed to eye everyone around us with suspicion and I found myself glancing over my shoulder at every opportunity.

“Do you think he’d follow us all the way to London?” I asked, I believe early on in our journey.

“I couldn’t say, sir,” was all he said in reply.

I may have fallen asleep at some point on the ferry across the Channel, for I found myself leaning rather comfortably on Jeeves’s shoulder, and for his part, the chap made no objection, as he was, when I awoke, rather fast asleep himself. But even so, by the time we reached London, well after sunset, I was more than ready for a full night of the dreamless, and even Jeeves’s feet seemed to drag a little - I could have sworn I actually heard him walking beside me.

But instead of going home, we stopped at Dr. Watson’s practice - that is  _ the _ Dr. Watson, the dearest pal of Sherlock Holmes, and, as Jeeves is something of a nephew to Sherlock Holmes, his family doctor.

It was Dr. Watson himself who answered the door. He didn’t look entirely chuffed in the first place at being disturbed at such an hour and his expression fell even further at the sight of us. He waved us inside. “Mr. Wooster, Jeeves, what happened?”

“E-Q,” Jeeves replied, as though it explained everything, and indeed it must have meant something because Dr. Watson gasped at the revelation. “He has taken up residence in Paris, in the cellars of the Opera Populaire.”

“What did he do?” the doctor asked urgently.

I shifted closer to Jeeves as we were ushered into the dark sitting room, not so different from the sitting room of that house on the underground lake, with bright yellow eyes everywhere, glinting just of sight.

“He attempted to exact his revenge,” Jeeves said.

The doctor turned on the lights, chasing back the shadows, and bid us make ourselves comfortable, pouring us each a drink for good measure, which we both received eagerly. I obliged and sat down on the sofa, but Jeeves lingered off to the side, near the doorway by which we’d entered.

That taken care of, Dr. Watson gave us each a searching glance. His gaze lingered on my neck. “May I?” he asked.

I nodded and he knelt down in front of the couch to give me a proper examination.

“How exactly did E-Q attempt to exact his revenge?” the doctor asked, as he gently turned my head this way and that. His tone made it clear he would accept no evasion.

I glanced up at Jeeves, but the chap remained stoic and silent, as much the stuffed frog as ever, and a particularly stern one. That being the case, I took it upon myself to elucidate, as it were.

“It was a kidnapping if I’ve ever seen one,” I began. “It seems like it was so long ago - I couldn’t really say how long we were in there. One moment we were walking along backstage after a show, happy as you please, and the next thing I knew we were down in that dreadful dungeon. Jeeves got us out of that one easy enough, but then Erik - that Eecue chap - came along and well, I was the one he caught, that’s how my neck got to be so dashed sore, but he made Jeeves come along. He blindfolded us and took us to a sort of death trap, a really rummy place. I’ve never wanted a glass of water so badly in my life. And then-” I believe it was thereabouts I cut off.

You see, as I was speaking, I don’t know if it’s ever happened to you - if you’re lucky it hasn’t - and I couldn’t exactly say how it happened to me, but I was just sort of overcome by the whole bally thing and the awfulness of it all. I kept speaking as calm as you please, or, at least I tried to, and there was a part of me, as though I were watching myself, going, Bertram Wooster, pick yourself up, old thing, but I couldn’t control it. My voice began to crack and then it was all over, waterworks and everything.

“Blast it!” I exclaimed, as my speech was overcome by the works - I’m certain it came out rather garbled. “It’s all over and done with, what? I don’t know why now all of a sudden!” At least, that’s what I tried to say.

I tried to brush away the t. from my e., but they were coming too hard and fast for a simple brush to do. Dr. Watson handed me a handkerchief, which I gratefully accepted.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me,” I attempted again, with little more success.

“Not at all,” the doctor insisted firmly, and then I think I saw him shoot a glance over his shoulder through the watery veil.

The next thing I knew, I had been swept up in the great, strong arms of none other than my man, Jeeves. The chap really does go far above and beyond the call of the feudal spirit. At that juncture, I believe I really let it all out, and he stayed there all the while, letting me cling and weep as he held me, if rather stiffly. I muttered all manner of entirely incomprehensible apologies and, while he didn’t really say anything in reply, I somehow came to understand that it was quite all right.

Eventually, I came to myself, or at least a bit closer to it, enough so to be dashed embarrassed by the whole thing. I accepted another handkerchief from the good doctor and stammered another apology for him having to see all that. “Jeeves could tell you I’m usually not nearly so weepy,” I insisted.

“I’m sure of it,” Dr. Watson said kindly. “You’ve both been through a serious ordeal. However, I believe the only prescription I can offer is rest, unless either of you experiences any additional symptoms. You’re welcome to stay the night in the spare bedroom.”

I glanced over at Jeeves in a sort of silent, “what do you say?” though I’m afraid I looked rather more like a lost lamb turning to his shephard.

“Yes, I believe that will do nicely. Thank you, Dr. Watson,” Jeeves said cordially.

I’m not entirely sure how we managed it up into the spare bedroom, but we did.

“If there’s anything you require, you need but ask,” the doctor said, before leaving us to our own devices.

After everything that had occured - my head still swam with it all - Bertram W. was feeling rather more limp noodle than man. I had little doubt Jeeves was feeling it all as much as I, but still, when I found myself standing blankly in front of the mirror, staring in a daze, he took it upon himself to give me a hand with the raiment, and when he was done a bath was already waiting for me in the other room. We had been in such a rush at the hotel in Paris - just that afternoon - that I had somehow neglected to notice the ring of bright purple bruises forming around my neck and wrists, proof that it had not all been one horrid nightmare.

Jeeves guided me away from the mirror, into the bathroom. I dipped into the bath, already drawn, as I have said, by the incomparable Jeeves. He lingered there beside it, I suspect to ensure that I didn’t drown in my rather weakened state, but as he was present and not otherwise occupied, he offered his services in cleaning the Wooster person, which was met with wholehearted approval.

“If you would like to make yourself comfortable, sir,” I believe he said, with a bit of a rummy soft expression across his chiseled f. He wasn’t quite smiling, and nor would I say he was relaxed, but there was a certain luxury in the whole thing that I’d say we both rather savored.

I lay down in the tub, quite content not to do anything else. A glass of the life-giving had been placed well within reach in case I felt the need - and of course, there was another glass at hand for Jeeves. I rested my head, propped up just so on the back of the tub, and Jeeves commenced with the lathering, beginning around the top of my forehead and working his way back through my hair in gentle, rhythmic movements. I would have been quite content to remain like that forever. There was something altogether peaceful in the quiet of the bathroom, enjoying Jeeves’s meticulous attentions. I could have easily dozed off, in fact, I believe I very nearly did, before Jeeves stopped to move onto the next. The rest wasn’t quite so relaxing, with all the moving, and poking limbs out of the warm water, and what not, but Jeeves’s touch remained sure and gentle, to a remarkably soothing effect.

It didn’t take too long, probably for the best, as I was already rather faded, though I regretted it a little as I stepped out of the warm, soapy water, turned a little grey from all the grime. Jeeves helped me to my feet and applied a towel to stem the worst of the dripping, before gently draping it across my shoulders. My night clothes were already laid out on the bed, and I shimmied into them without too much difficulty despite my leaden limbs. After however many nights it was of passing out on hard floors, I don’t believe I’ve ever experienced a bed so soft and inviting as the one in Dr. Watson’s spare bedroom. It seemed to swallow me whole in just the right sort of way.

The only thing that kept me from falling into the dreamless instanter was Jeeves retreating from the bedside. After everything that had occurred, the thought of being alone was rather enough to start something of a panic, tired as I was.

“Jeeves,” I called out, catching the chap by the arm.

He stopped obligingly and turned to face me. “Sir?” he said, his expression unreadable.

“Won’t you stay?” I said, sounding rather plaintive. At the hearing of my own words, I hastily backpedaled, “I mean to say, if you want to, that is. It’s just…” I trailed off.

“I believe I understand your meaning, sir,” Jeeves said gently. “However, if you intend to indicate that you would like for me to join you, it would be imperative for me to first expunge the remnants of our toils.”

“You mean to say you want to take a bath?” I clarified, my head too much a muddle for it all.

“I believe a quick rinse would suffice, sir.”

“all right, Jeeves,” I reluctantly assented. “But do make it quick - not that I mean-”

“Very good, sir,” Jeeves said, and I thought I caught a suggestion of a smile across his c. f.

It took all the strength I had to keep my heavy head above water, so to speak, while I waited, and I only faintly recall the bed shifting as Jeeves at last slid in beside me. But I do recall that I clung to him rather comfortably as I drifted off into the dreamless.

The dreamless, however, is not all it purports to be, at least it wasn’t for Bertram W. on this particular occasion. I may have drifted off like a stone, but when I actually got down to it, I was restless, tossing and turning through the night as my mind teemed with jaguars, and skeletons, and ghouls with glowing eyes, all under the hot desert sun, and finally, having had quite enough of all that, I burst into awareness, drenched in a cold sweat.

“Jeeves!” I began to cry out, but in what I took to be a miracle, the chap was already there, his arms already entwined around the Wooster person.

“Sir?” Jeeves said, sounding not at all like a chap who had been abruptly awoken by a shout in his ear.

“It was horrible!” I exclaimed with a shudder at the thought. “I didn’t think we’d ever get out!”

“I know, sir,” Jeeves said quietly. There was something a little defiant to his tone.

I glanced frantically around the darkened chamber as though we were encamped in the depths of the jungle, with nought between us and the wild beasts, perhaps looking for those bright yellow eyes, glinting just out of sight.

Jeeves drew me from my thoughts, pressing a glass into my hands, and bid me to drink. I eagerly took it and nearly drained the whole thing in a single gulp.

Once I was done, Jeeves helped me back against the pillows. “Rest, sir. You may need your strength tomorrow. I will ensure that nothing happens to you in the night.”

“What about you, Jeeves?” I asked, thinking of the chap collapsed in the desert, run to the ground.

“Your concern is very kind, sir,” he said, in a sort of rummy way that suggested it was appreciated, but essentially futile.

“If you’re sure, Jeeves,” I said, punctuated with a yawn.

His response troubled me perhaps less than it ought have. A heavy exhaustion had returned to weigh upon my head and I found there was something awfully comfortable lying there, as much on Jeeves as the bed itself. The steady rhythm of his breathing alone could have been enough to lull a chap into the dreamless. The last thing I think I recall was the gentle brush of his hand across my forehead to brush away a stray hair.

* * *

The next morning, I awoke feeling rather like, after having first been run over by a steam engine, I had then then been grabbed by the collar by a roughish fellow and dragged half a mile to the station - that is to say, a little better than one might expect given the circs. There was an oppressive heat about the place, as though I had been buried in the sands and left to bake, but there was nothing hard or grainy about the surface upon which I found myself.

I blinked open my eyes against the bright sunlight, and found that I was in a bed, in a bedroom, of all the rummy places I could have found myself. It wasn’t my own, tossing out the possibility that it had all just been a dreadful nightmare, but the room was perfectly fine, if a little sparse, a perfectly reasonable place for a chap to wake up in the morn. The only complaint I had was quite a bit of aching despite the comfortable arrangements, localized particularly to the neck and upward, but also around the wrists, on top of a sort of general ache that rather permeated throughout.

I was just beginning to think that if there was any time a chap needed one of Jeeves’s miraculous pick-me-ups, now would be the time, when in shimmered the man himself, with a glass of the needful. It was only water, but I’d come to appreciate the life-giving after everything we’d been through. I gulped down the glass before taking a good look at its bearer. Jeeves looked rather well back to his old self, not a hair out of place and all that. His expression may have been a bit sterner than the usual, as though he’d discovered some objectionable item among the luggage - not that I recalled having packed any - but he wasn’t so standoffish for all that.

“Good morning, Jeeves,” I said, as chipper as a chap could be having woken up feeling like he’d been barreled over and dragged out and what not.

“Good morning, sir. I trust you slept well.”

“Very well!” I declared, though my cheeks colored a little as I remembered why I had slept so peacefully. I tentatively reached out a hand and gave his arm a pat. Not for any particular reason, if I thought about it, but perhaps just to see if I still could.

“That is most gratifying to hear, sir,” Jeeves said graciously, catching my hand in his for just a moment before I could withdraw it. “If you are feeling equal to travel, I believe it may be time to return home, sir.”

“Right you are, Jeeves,” I said with half a yawn. “I think I can manage it in a tick.”

“Very good, sir,” he said, before shimmering out, leaving a cup of tea on the bedside table.

I felt rather more like myself after a cup of tea and a small breakfast, dressed and shaved and altogether looking like a perfectly respectable chap. Jeeves and I strode out into the new day - no longer quite so new - like new men.

“I say!” I exclaimed. “It’s a lovely day, what?”

“Indeed, sir,” Jeeves said in that bally way of is that suggests he really means the opposite.

“None of that ‘indeed’, Jeeves. I say it’s a perfectly lovely day. What do you say to a turn about the park?” It was a pleasantly cool day, and I, for one, couldn’t imagine any better.

“I would not advise it, sir.”

There was something in his tone that made me stop. “No?”

“No, sir.”

I glanced about, suddenly aware of all the places someone could be hiding, just out of sight. “You’re sure it isn’t safer out among the populace? At least then someone would see if something happened.”

“It would be best to return home, sir.”

I sighed. “Very good, Jeeves. You know best.”

If anything could put a damper on a lovely day, that was it. I glanced over my shoulder every minute or so the whole way home. Jeeves, instead of glancing about, was stiff and distant. I tried to goad him into conversation once or twice, but it all fell flat. And so, we went up into the flat in a sort of moody silence.

There was something to be said for it though, being home I mean. We stepped through the door into the familiar place and I let out a deep sigh of relief. It had gotten a bit dusty, perhaps, while we had been away on our abbreviated vacation - I sneezed a few times - but all in all, it was the same as ever. I never thought I’d miss the place, but it brought a tear to my eye - just one mind you, I was thoroughly done with weeping about - to be back at last.

“I say,” I said, “I never thought I’d miss the place, but it’s good to be home.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeeves said, but it lacked any enthusiasm.

Once he’d put down the luggage and taken my coat, he set about airing out the place and getting things back in order. Meanwhile, I settled in the most comfortable chair in the sitting room, lit a gasper, and gave the legs and back a good stretch. At least I tried to; a sharp pain somewhere along the way gave me a goodish amount of pause.

“Is everything all right, sir?” Jeeves asked, materializing beside me, as he does.

“Oh, yes, just a kink in the back, I think. Nothing to trouble about, what?”

“Very good, sir,” he said, and then he biffed off to the other room to do some unpacking and such what.

I was occupied just a moment longer with the unkinking of the back, and then, all stretched out and unkinked, I found that there was nothing to keep me sitting there in the chair, and so, after another moment or two, I sprung back to my feet.

My life is generally one of leisure, I am generally not a chap who feels at a loss for things to do, even when those things amount to little more than curling up with a clever mystery or just leaning back and watching my man, Jeeves, at his work. I could never trade the liveliness of the city for the quiet of the countryside, mind you, but I rarely feel at a loss even in the comfort of my own flat.

Upon that particular afternoon, however, I paced about the sitting room like a chap in a cage. I had a distinctly rummy feeling that there was something that needed doing and nothing else would do until it was done. But if I had any errands that needed to be run, I wasn’t aware of them, and I hadn’t a clue what they could have been. So I contended myself with pacing about, threw myself down on the couch and picked myself up - with a bit of aching each way, mind you. The only result of it all was a definite protest from the legs, which made it readily apparent there would be no more of that, so I was forced to resign myself to the chair at last.

“Jeeves,” I called.

“Yes, sir?” he said, appearing at my elbow the instant his name had left my mouth.

I blinked up at the chap a moment - now that I had him, I hadn’t a clue what to say.

“Is there anything you require, sir?” he asked when I didn’t say anything.

“Oh, no, I suppose not. Nevermind, Jeeves.”

“Very good, sir.” He rippled back into his lair to do whatever it is he does in there.

I sat hemming and hawing for a tick or two, and almost called for Jeeves again, before, at last, I made up my mind and pushed myself back to my feet. My legs complained a little, but I assured them they didn’t have to go far, just through the door, into Jeeves’s lair.

He was in the early stages of cooking something when I came in, not at the point where there were any enticing aromas yet, just pulling things together and what not. Of course, he stopped everything he was doing as soon as the door swung open, but I waved him back to it.

“Sir, is there anything you require?” Jeeves asked, his hands operating as though of their own accord as all of his attention seemed to be fixed on me.

“Not exactly,” I said, taking a seat at the work table, with my feet up propped up on the chair next to me. “I don’t know what it is, Jeeves!”

“Sir?”

“It feels like I’ve forgotten something dashed important! Have I, Jeeves?”

“I don’t believe so, sir.”

I let out a huff of air and watched Jeeves work in silence for a moment or two.

“Do you really think he’s followed us to London?” I asked in a low voice.

“It is a possibility, sir,” Jeeves said, looking up from his work once more.

“Wouldn’t he have done something by now?” I exclaimed with a wave of my gasper.

“I couldn’t say, sir.”

“He’s your cousin! What about your psychology of the individual and all that?” I demanded.

“His actions are difficult to predict, sir.”

“What? More difficult than anyone else’s?”

“Yes, sir. He knows that I am endeavoring to predict and curtail any plan he may have, and therefore, any action he pursues will doubtless take my expectations into account.”

“You mean to say you’re trying to out-think each other? But in that case he doesn’t stand a chance. He can’t eat half as much fish as you do!”

“I hope that you are correct, sir.”

If nothing else had done it, Jeeves’s response alone was enough to give me a bit of a chill. If that Erik fellow was half as brainy as Jeeves on top of all the rest, well, I didn’t really want to think of it, though my mind seemed to have its own ideas.

“Jeeves, is there anything I can do? Anything at all?”

“No, sir,” he replied, and that was that.

* * *

That first night back in the flat was not an easy one. After a restless day I bid Jeeves an early goodnight and was more than ready to dive straight into the dreamless, but as I lay in bed in the dark, I found that sleep was the last thing on my mind. The shadows seemed to have a life of their own, shifting and shaping into mouldy stone walls and rusted iron bars. Bony hands reached out at me, only to dissolve into nothing. And every glint of light was a bright yellow eye in a skeletal face, that wavered out of sight as soon as I tried to get a good look at it.

A floorboard creaked and I nearly jumped straight up out of bed, a good few feet in the air.

My heart eventually settled back in my chest and I ceased to pant like a chap who had just run a marathon, but by that point, I’d had quite enough. It was, however, one thing to think idly of hoping out of bed into the sitting room for a smoke and a bracing drink, and another thing entirely to do the actual wading through the darkness, my bare feet tiptoeing across the cold floorboards, just waiting for whatever was lurking in the shadows to reach out and grab at me as I passed. But I braved it. The floorboards creaked loudly beneath my feet, broadcasting my path loud and clear to whatever evil powers lurked in the shadows, but nothing took hold of me as I crossed the room in a bound or two. I flung the door open ahead of me, and sprang out into the sitting room.

And there, standing in the middle of the darkened room, was a man. That time I really did jump about a foot in the air and let out a bit of a yelp besides as I fumbled for the lights.

“Sir?” the figure asked, a bit sharply I must say, and at about that moment, the lights flickered on to reveal, of course, Jeeves.

“Jeeves!” I yelped. “You gave me a fright!”

“My apologies, sir. Is everything quite all right?” He rippled like a rather fast moving brook - or perhaps a rushing river would get the image across better - over to where I was standing, just on the threshold of the sitting room. His dark eyes made quick work of me before peering into the bedroom beyond.

“Rather- I mean I think so. It’s just all those dashed shadows, who knows where the chap could be hiding.”

His gaze flickered back to me in an instant. “I believe I understand, sir. Perhaps a drink would take off some of the edge, if I may use the expression?”

“That would be just the thing!”

“Very good, sir.”

I settled down on the sofa and lit a gasper, and had hardly to wait a second before a glass appeared in hand. Our fingers brushed for but an instant, and there was something rather reassuring about the touch.

“Thank you, Jeeves,” I said.

“Not at all, sir.”

I tipped it back and drained the glass in a gulp or two. After that and a couple drags at the soothing gasper, I was enough at ease that I didn’t even jump when I heard a gentle cough from just a foot or so away. It was Jeeves, still standing at attention as though he had never left my side.

“What is it, Jeeves?” I asked, leaning back on the sofa to make myself comfortable.

“If I may take the liberty, sir” - I waved him on. “It has come to my attention that there is a point which may require some clarification on my part.”

“I say, Jeeves!” That was hardly what I had been expecting, but I urged him on. There was something rummy in the way he was looking at me; more of that dashed stuffed frog I’d been seeing an awful lot of lately, but beneath it I thought I saw something of a rummy softness to the chap’s e.

He continued, his words carefully measured, “You indicated that you were under the impression that your wellbeing is something of an afterthought to me. I would like to assure you that is the opposite of the truth. There is, in fact, nothing more important to me.” Amidst all the courtesy, I could have almost said there was something nervous about the chap’s tone.

“That’s awfully feudal of you, Jeeves,” I said.

“Thank you, sir. However, I did not intend it in such a sense. My feelings are independent of my position; I have never held such a regard for any other employer, and I would feel the same toward you whether I were in your employ or not.”

“You mean even if you were working for someone else?”

“Yes, sir, though I may hope, may I not, that such a thing will never come to pass.”

“Of course, Jeeves!” I said with a beam. I was having a little trouble catching up to the whole thing, to tell the truth, but as far as I was concerned, Jeeves could remain in the Wooster employ for as long as he liked.

“Thank you, sir,” he said graciously and then rippled off as though he’d been doing nothing but a spot of evening cleaning when I arrived, and had but to resume it.

I watched him drift around the room, dusting here and rearranging there, each movement purposeful and precise with nothing wasted. Even doing practically nothing, the chap just about shone with intelligence and all manner of competency besides. I wouldn’t have had a chance in that dark dungeon - or the bright torture chamber - without Jeeves’s seemingly infinite resourcefulness, but with him here, flitting about as he was, I felt safe and secure as though it had all been but a horrible nightmare.

It seemed impossible that such a man would hold any sort of regard for a chap like me, but there I had it, from the mouth of Jeeves himself, no less. The mere thought of it buoyed me up, like a balloon so full of hot air I could very well burst, not in an unpleasant sort of way, but with a sort of elation, a joy I didn’t even realize I had.

“I say, Jeeves,” I said, a bit belatedly, as it were, but the chap quickly turned to attention. Before I ran out of courage, I quickly continued, “You very well know that I value you more than anything, what? More than I can dashed well put into words, that is.”

He seemed to smile, a bit more than a twitch of the lips. “That is very kind, sir.”

I beamed back at the chap and we made each other know that all was quite well.

To think that Jeeves could feel half as much as I did for him - it does a chap more than a little good.

* * *

I must have dozed off on the sofa watching Jeeves puttering about, because that’s the last thing I remember before, the next thing I knew, all was dark and silent.

“Jeeves!” I called out.

“Yes, sir?” What had seemed to be a statue in the moonlight, that I had taken for just another shadow on the wall suddenly came to life, and Jeeves turned to face me. He seemed to glow in the silvery light, a stark contrast with the dark of his livery.

“Jeeves, what time is it?” I asked blearily, pushing myself upright - it was only then that I noticed a blanket had materialized on top of me while I had been lost in the not-entirely-dreamless.

“You should rest, sir.”

“What about you?” I insisted. “What’re you doing up at this hour? Are you having trouble sleeping too?”

“I’m keeping watch, sir.”

“Keeping watch? For your cousin, you mean?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You think he’ll come?”

“I could not say, sir.”

I was getting dashed tired of the phrase.

Jeeves only stood there, still and silent in the darkness, watching and waiting. I felt a pang of something, not just fear, but also a sort of sympathy for the chap, standing on his lonesome watch long after any reasonable person ought have been abed.

“Is something troubling you, sir?” he asked after I couldn’t say how long.

It sort of jarred me into awareness. “What? Me? No- not really, I mean, other than well-” I rambled myself into silence. “Are  _ you _ doing all right? Not having any trouble sleeping or what not?”

“I assure you, sir, I’m quite all right,” Jeeves replied. If it had been another chap, I would’ve said he seemed like his pride had been wounded by the question.

“If you say so, Jeeves,” I said, rather less than convinced.

I glanced away, feeling rather like the cat in the adage, letting I dare not wait upon I would, and all that, not that I really knew what to do under the circs. But I didn’t let all that stop me for long.

“I know I’m not the most helpful chap to have around with keeping guard and what not,” I began, perhaps not in the most promising fashion, “but, I say, there was something awfully helpful - rather reassuring, you know - about just having you there the other night- not that I have half the brains of you or anyone else, for that matter, or can do half the things, but if I can help in any way, well, I say I rather ought to lend a hand, what?”

“That is very kind, sir,” Jeeves said, fixing me with a rather rummy expression. But rummier still, he continued, “I find your presence to be very helpful, sir.”

“Really? I mean to say, rather! You can bask in the Wooster presence all you like!”

“That is most reassuring, sir.” I fancy I saw the corner of Jeeves’s lips twitch upward an eighth of an inch or two.

“Right-o, Jeeves!”

“I don’t mean to keep you from sleeping, sir, especially not at such an hour,” he added pointedly.

I may have been wide awake a moment before, but at the reminder of the lateness of the hour, my eyelids suddenly felt leaden, and I was forced to stifle a yawn. Still, I asked, “What about you, Jeeves? You can’t very well stand there all night, what?”

His eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch as though to say he very well could, but he suggested rather coyly, “If you would prefer for me to join you on the sofa, sir?”

I was startled a bit by the suggestion, but took it in stride. “If you like, Jeeves. It’ll be a bit tight.”

“Indeed, sir.”

I scootched over to make a little room for the chap, not that there was much room to be made. He helped me straighten out the blanket, which had gotten rather twisted up in all the sitting up and moving about, and then he took a seat at the end of the sofa, whereabout my head had been. After a bit of readjusting, the chap made for a remarkably comfortable pillow, yet another sign, among many, that Jeeves goes above and beyond the standard of excellence for a valet.

“You really do go above and beyond, Jeeves,” I remarked, though it may have come out as more of a sleepy mumble, as I cozied up rather nicely to the chap, if I say so myself, his arm around me, keeping me steady.

“That is very kind, sir,” he said gently.

I gave another yawn, a full one this time, as my eyelids began to droop and dreamless beckoned. Strange as it may seem, lying there, in the dark sitting room, waiting, as it were, for the worst to come, I felt quite safe with Jeeves rather comfortably beside me.

“He hasn’t a chance of getting past you,” I murmured.

“I hope not, sir,” Jeeves said, his tone a little graver than one would like, but I soon drifted off regardless.

* * *

For all of our - mostly Jeeves’s, really - waiting and watching, the following days passed almost like any others. Jeeves shimmered about the place, to all appearances merely carrying out his usual duties, and I found that the tales of suspense that had barely held my eye at all in the days just after our ordeal began to regain their previous intrigue. Eventually, as is wont to happen after several days spent at home, no doubt further motivated by the still uneasy atmosphere, the flat began to feel cramped and a new restlessness began to overtake me.

At last, one afternoon, I declared, “Jeeves, don’t worry about dinner; I’ll be dining at the Drones this evening.”

Jeeves stopped in his tracks and turned back to face me. “I would not advise it, sir.”

As I have said, the man had not exactly been at ease despite our gradual return to the usual routine, and it begins to wear on a chap. “What now, Jeeves? We haven’t seen head or tail of your cousin since we made it back to the metrop. You don’t think he’s still after us, do you?”

“It’s a definite possibility, sir.”

“That’s to say you don’t know?”

“No, sir, I do not know. His unpredictability is what makes E-Q so dangerous.”

I’d had quite enough of it and I’m afraid to say lashed out a bit with all the tension that had been building up. “What bally rot! I say you’re losing your touch!”

“I hope not, for your sake, sir,” Jeeves said, his tone rather dire.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There is a principle, sir, of survival of the fittest.”

“And what am I supposed to do then? Never leave your sight until you give the all-clear? And how long will that be? The rest of my life?”

“Sir, I couldn’t say how long it will be, but it’s not worth the risk-”

“It is if I say it is, Jeeves!”

“Sir!”

“I don’t like your tone, Jeeves. I’m going and that’s that.”

The remainder of the afternoon was rather worse than the first part. Jeeves was now definitely giving me the cold shoulder, and I for one was not a chap to put up with it, and so gave him the cold shoulder right back. As such, it may be easily imagined that I was eager to get out of the place and left for the Drones early in the evening. I rather hurried my way there, like a child hurrying through the dark in the hope that the less time he spent in the shadows, the less likely its unpleasant denizens would be to notice a trespass on their domain. The weather was pleasant, but I was in no spirit to enjoy it, glancing around for glowing yellow eyes under every hat-brim, as it were.

At last, I made it inside the familiar door, panting as the chap took my coat. I nearly forgot to tip him, I was in such a distracted state.

It was a tad early, as I have said, but there were still enough chaps about to lob about a basketful of bread at me as I entered. I jumped and yelped at the sudden onslaught, and did everything I could do dive for cover, as the lads burst into laughter around me.

“Where’ve you been, Bertie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” someone shouted - I didn’t see who, but I did lob a few rolls back into the fray for good measure.

Thankfully, the Drones are as fickle a crowd as any, and their attention had rather quickly moved on after I failed to provide any further entertainment. I took a moment to catch my breath and convince my erratic heart that there was no cause for it to race from the room, before settling at a somewhat quieter table, occupied by just a few of the lads who were immersed in their own conversation.

Alas, the table wasn’t quiet for long. I had only just seated myself and made to call for a drink when D’arcy “Stilton” Cheesewright gave me something of a shock and Inearly upset the soup. Despite the fact that we’d been school-mates since Eton, he’s not exactly a bosom pal of mine, having sworn he’d break my spine in upwards of six places on multiple occasions. However, I hadn’t the slightest notion why he was charging at me in such a rage at present.

“Wooster, you lying snake in the grass!” he charged, looking rather like an enraged bull making for the matador post haste. “You thought it was safe to come out of hiding, well I’ve been waiting for you! I’ll crack your head open and split your spine in two! Is there a woman you won’t steal from me? Now I hear you’re making wedding plans, to tie Daphne to you before she knows what you really are!”

I looked the man up and down. Usually I find the whole charging and shouting routine at least a little ruffling, but aside from the initial start, he seemed rather more bluster than bite. For one, his mug was perfectly intact, if not terribly attractive, without any semblance to the skull underneath, and there was no yellow glow about the eyes. Stilton’s a largish chap, not to be trifled with, but his bark sort of blew over me, as though it had started out as a real gale, but had given up halfway through.

“And, I say, what’s that?” I said, not bothering to stand.

“You’re a louse and a snake, not fit to kiss the ground beneath her feet!”

I didn’t particularly want to kiss any part of the girl in question - or any other girl for that matter - but I knew better than to say so. You see, I was a little slow on the uptake on that particular evening between everything else that had been going on, and it had taken me until after Stilton had mentioned her name to recall that I was in fact engaged to be married to a girl who, until rather recently, had been Stilton’s fiancée, and it seemed he hadn’t gotten over the bad feelings that accompany such a thing. It was bad news for me too, mind you, but rather underwhelmingly so.

“Oh, I’m sure Jeeves will think of something,” I said with a bit of a wave.

Jeeves, of course, had more important things to be thinking of, with his cousin still at large and presumably still feeling none too kindly toward Jeeves or myself. For a moment, I regretted leaving the chap alone in the flat, but if anything happened that he couldn’t handle, there certainly wasn’t a thing I could’ve done about it. I reflexively glanced over at the window, and nearly jumped a foot in the air at the glowing yellow reflection of a pair of light bulbs.

“What do you mean by that?” Stilton demanded.

I turned to him distractedly. “By what?”

“What lies did you tell her? How did you bewitch Daphne into agreeing to marry a brainless lout? I’ll pull your empty head off!”

I was reminded a little of my still tender neck, but the head pulling did not commence, and so I considered myself safe.

“Oh, that,” I said, “I didn’t really say anything, just the next thing I knew we were engaged, but I’m sure it’ll work itself out, what?”

“You’re not getting rid of me so easily, Wooster!”

I wasn’t really sure what to say to that, so I shrugged and said, “Right-o, Stilton.”

He didn’t seem quite sure what to say either, and after a bit of an awkward silence, he left me, grumbling about vapid louse and what not.

I leaned back in my chair to savor the sudden improvement in atmosphere thereabouts, but I found I was still a little uneasy, not about Stilton, certainly, nor really about Daphne, but uneasy all the same. My eyes flickered back to the window, but all I could make out was the yellow glow of the electric light bulbs reflected in the glass.

A quiet night was the only thing for it, I concluded. I contended myself with sitting about and listening as the chaps chewed the fat back and forth. An argument had started about a game of darts on the other end of the room and beside me Freddie, an old pal of mine, was lamenting the turns in his own life to a couple of chaps I had seen around, but couldn’t name.

“The old hard boiled egg won’t give me a dime,” Freddie was saying, “and I can’t very well marry her without a penny to my name.”

It was sad stuff, of course, and on another day I would have been the first to think up just the wheeze for a pal - or, in the absence of an idea of my own, call upon Jeeves - but on that particular evening, I just wasn’t feeling it, and as I have mentioned, Jeeves was otherwise occupied.

“I just met the most beautiful girl,” one of the other chaps put in, “but she wouldn’t so much as look at me, dimes or none.”

Again, a heart wrenching tale, and you may think me a bit cold for thinking it, but I expected it would work itself out one way or the other, and that it didn’t very much matter which.

I mostly just sat there listening as the conversation continued on for a while in very much the same fashion, until I was abruptly jarred into it by the sound of my name.

“I say, Bertie, what cut your trip to Paris short?” Freddie tried again. “We all thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more weeks at least.”

“Oh, that, well, you see,” I fumbled about for an explanation that wasn’t being kidnapped by Jeeves’s murderous, vengeful cousin, “better early than never, what? I rather thought we stayed there a bit long, really. Couldn’t get back to the metrop soon enough, what?”

To my surprise, Freddie gave me a bit of a knowing smile. “Of course, you’re engaged aren’t you? Couldn’t stay away from the girl?”

“Not exactly.”

“Really? What is it then? Not a new girl?”

“No, I just decided I needed a bit of a change of scenery, what? Paris made itself a little hot to hold a chap.”

“Trouble then? Bertie, what’ve you gotten into this time? Not stealing more silver?”

Freddie and the other chaps seemed to find it all great fun, but I squirmed a little, feeling almost like a guilty man sitting down to dinner with the unknowing family, glaringly out of place, but no one else seemed to notice.

“Nothing like that!” Somehow the words came out louder and sharper than I had intended.

The chaps fell silent and glanced between themselves. It felt like everyone in the Drones was staring.

“Oh, we didn’t didn’t mean it like that,” Freddie said in a bit of an attempt at levity. “It can’t have been so serious, can it?”

I gave a bit of a hollow laugh and hastily tried to cover it up; “Hardly, I mean of course not, what? Who said anything about something serious? Just wanted a change of scenery is all.”

No one seemed quite sure how to respond to that, and I couldn’t very well blame them.

“You sound like you could use a vacation from your vacation,” one of the chaps suggested.

“I say,” I assented, but without too much enthusiasm.

You will not be surprised, I imagine, to hear that I left soon after that. I let out a long sigh of a breath as I stepped out into the quiet foyer, and some of the tension that had been building up in my chest and across my shoulders slipped out with it. If you ask me, I am certain to say there is no better bunch of wastrels than the Drones, but on that particular evening, I was plainly not feeling equal to the company.

“Sir?”

The quiet voice, coming from just behind me, nearly sent me leaping into the air - just as any little startle had been wont to do that evening. But when I turned to face the source of the voice, it was with a beam, feeling suddenly just about as light as air.

“Jeeves!” I exclaimed. “I say! What are you doing here?”

“I expected you might benefit from some company on your walk home, sir,” Jeeves said, a little bit the stuffed frog, reminding me of our quarrel upon my departure.

But it was all bygones under the bridge, as they say. I was pleased to see the man and let him know it.

“Rather!”

The corner of Jeeves’s lips twitched upward just a smidge and he didn’t seem so much of a stuffed frog anymore.

I was tempted to loop my arm through his on our way home, but I contented myself with giving him a bit of a pat on the shoulder in greeting, just a small one, mind you. As we stepped out into the late evening, I found myself feeling rather less sanguine, wishing, at least a little, that decorum would permit me to cling to Jeeves’s arm as we waded through the dark. But, in the spirit of the noble Woosters who fought at Agincourt, I braved it. We hurried home as fast as we could shy of making it a marathon.

At last, we burst in through the door to the flat. That is to say, I burst in; Jeeves rippled in calmly like any reasonable chap, but he seemed rather less stiff when the door was closed securely behind us. He took my coat from me and I collapsed on the sofa with a calming gasper.

“Maybe you were right, Jeeves” I said after a couple of puffs.

“Sir?” Jeeves said, shimmering about my elbow, as though he hadn’t moved after giving me a light.

I sighed. “Perhaps it would have been best if I hadn’t gone. What if something had happened to you while I was away, or if he had caught me while I was there. And all just to throw a couple darts, chew the fat about girls and hard boiled eggs and what not. It felt like bally rot!”

“Insubstantial and inconsequential, sir?” Jeeves asked with a sort of rummy cautiousness.

“That’s it exactly! What’s the wheeze -  _ rem ack _ something?”

“ _ Rem acu tetigisti _ , sir?”

“Yes!  _ Rem acu tetigisti _ !”

“Meaning literally ‘you have touched the point with a needle.’”

I waved it off with my cigarette and took another drag for good measure. “Is that how you see us, Jeeves? Is that how my life seems to you; unsubstantial and inconsequential?”

“No, sir,” Jeeves said softly. “I have not felt that way since I entered into your employ.”

“But you did?”

“Yes, sir. I confess the stakes of everyday life are somewhat lower than I am accustomed to.”

I nodded along. “It all pales in comparison to life and death, what? Say, Jeeves, is that really what you’re accustomed to; life and death and all that?”

“Yes, sir.” He gave no indication of any intention of elaborating.

Still, I found I couldn’t quite drop it. “I say, you had it rather rough, what?”

“That is one way to put it, sir.”

It didn’t take a chap as brainy as Jeeves to tell that he wasn’t going to say any more. And so, I was left to try to fathom the unfathomable. I wanted to reach out to him, to give him some comfort, but anything seemed far from adequate. Even after spending a day or two locked up by Jeeves’s cousin, afraid for my life, I still couldn’t imagine living like that; fighting for my life, knife in hand.

“How do you stand it all without going mad?” I asked. “I mean working for me, the most unsubstantial and inconsequential chap of the lot?”

Jeeves fixed me with his dark eyes. There was something rummy intense about his gaze, you could almost call it tender. “It’s thanks to you, sir, that I have found meaning in the unsubstantial and inconsequential.”

“What do you mean? I know you’re dashed indifferent to my petty troubles, and I can’t very well blame you! I don’t know if I’ve had a real thought all my life until now getting kidnapped by your bally cousin!”

“Don’t say that, sir,” Jeeves said with surprising heat. “You are aware of my regard for you. When I am indifferent, it’s only because I expect I will soon find a solution to whatever ails you. There is great value in the ability to concern oneself with more than just life and death; to appreciate the insubstantial and care about the inconsequential.”

“Don’t make fun of me, Jeeves, I know I’m as frivolous as it gets.”

“I do not intend to make light of it, sir. Your frivolity is something I have found to be worth preserving and protecting. You should never have needed to fear for your life and I will ensure that you never have such cause for concern again.” The way he said it, it sounded like he would have been willing to brave anything for the cause.

“Sir, I realize that it was a mistake for me to attempt to keep you from the Drones Club,” he continued after something of a pause. “It’s my task to ensure that you can live a life free of fear, not to burden you with such concerns.”

“No, you were right, Jeeves, it was for the best,” I said with a wave of my cigarette.

“No, it was not, sir.”

“Going to the Drones wasn’t all it’s chalked up to be.”

“The feeling will pass, sir,” Jeeves said gently.

As bracing as it was worrying about things like life and death, it rather quickly wore out its welcome, and the prospect of a return to normalcy was a welcome one. So it was with a bit of hope that I asked, “You think so?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeeves said, and I almost thought the chap seemed relieved. “I have found that you are most resilient.”

I puffed up a bit at that. “Rather!”

“Very good, sir.” Jeeves almost seemed to smile. “Is there anything else you require?”

“A drink, if you’d be so kind, Jeeves.” I hesitated over the next bit, but there was something awfully tempting about the prospect of company. Still, it came out rather reluctantly; “And then, if you don’t have too much to do, you’d be welcome to join me on the sofa for a bit of reading before bed - me with Dr. Watson’s latest and you with the Spinoza - if you’re so inclined, that is.”

“That is very kind, sir.”

I went and got my book and waited rather nervously, hardly reading a word, as Jeeves poured me a drink and then retreated into his lair. I half expected him not to re-emerge, but sure enough, he returned, book in hand, and so we sat down side by side and spent the evening reading together.

* * *

Slowly, but surely, my life returned to its usual routine. I read, relaxed, and hung about the Drones. My engagement to Daphne was abruptly broken off without so much as a word between us. To all appearances everything in the life of Bertram W. was smooth sailing. Even Jeeves seemed to ostensibly be back to his usual self, but every so often I’d detect a certain soupiness in the chap’s demeanor when I announced I’d be going out to the Drones, or I’d catch him looking warily out of the corner of his eye as we walked along the square, or glancing out the window.

Whenever I asked, “What is it, Jeeves?”

He invariably replied, “Nothing, sir.”

Finally, I decided enough was enough and I legged it all the way out to Bunny’s flat. He usually comes by my place, and I can’t very well blame the chap - his books did well, but he’s as perpetually hard up as any artist - but after everything that had happened, I wanted a chance to chew the fat with Bunny without Jeeves listening in, as any good servant does.

After we’d finished with the “What ho!”s and “How do you do?”s, and were sitting round the table with some tea - not quite as good as it is steeped by Jeeves’s expert hand, but refreshing nonetheless - Bunny remarked, “You and Jeeves are back from London early.”

“Yes,” I said dourly, “we ran into a cousin of yours - or rather he ran into us.”

“A cousin of mine?” Bunny exclaimed, as though he knew nothing good could come of that.

“Erik” - Bunny seemed no less perplexed - “Jeeves called him Eecue.”

“E-Q!” Bunny exclaimed, just as horrified as Dr. Watson, if not moreso. “What did he do?”

There was something heartening about having such an enthusiastic audience, after Jeeves’s calm veneer and the Drones’ blissful ignorance. “Kidnap us, for one, and he tried to do us in, but a pal of his rescued us in time.”

Bunny nodded along, no less aghast, but he seemed hardly surprised by it all. Instead something else caught his ear; “A friend of E-Q?”

“Yes, a chap he met in Persia, calls himself the daroga. I wouldn’t say they’re really friends exactly, apparently the daroga saved Erik’s life once and has been trying to keep him under wraps ever since.”

“And he bested E-Q? You’re sure he wasn’t… well, another cousin of Jeeves and I?”

“Hardly. He was quite the chap. We were deep in the soup, even Jeeves was just about at his wits end, and then the daroga came charging in.”

“This daroga couldn’t have been any ordinary man.” Bunny seemed to be more than a little perplexed by the chap, not that I could be much help to him.

“Rather!” I said, and with that resolved, went on to remark, “Say, Eecue is a rummy nickname.”

“Sorry,” Bunny said hastily, “it’s Erik now, isn’t it?”

I shrugged. “That’s what the daroga called him, at least, but Jeeves has been keeping up with the old nickname. It’s Jeeves I’m worried about, he’s been taking all this rather hard. Not that you’d know it from looking at the chap, mind you, but there are times when I could swear he’s just as near as he ever gets to being frightened, or rather nearer.”

“E- Erik really beat him?”

“It wasn’t exactly a fair fight. Erik mostly hid and taunted us from the shadows. I could have sworn he was a ghost with those fiery eyes and the way it sounded like he was everywhere at once. And then he got me around the neck and it was all over, and he threw us into this torture chamber he made.”

“You mean Jeeves gave up when Erik grabbed you?”

“Well, he made it perfectly clear he was more than willing to finish me off if Jeeves did anything.”

Bunny’s eyes seemed to widen a bit. “And that stopped Jeeves? We wondered if Jeeves really had an attachment to you, but I don’t even think Raffles was ever really sure.”

“What do you mean by that?” I demanded. “I know I’m not exactly equal to a chap like Jeeves, and he can seem dashed indifferent at times, but he’d wouldn’t just let a madman do me in, in cold blood, and he seems to care in his way, what?”

“No, not like that. It’s just that we always thought Raffles was the only one-“ Bunny seemed to get stuck, struggling to find the words.

But I’d heard enough to put it together with something Jeeves had said a few years ago, when Bunny first came back without Raffles. “You mean I’m a weakness of his. If not for me, he would have gotten out unscathed, but he couldn’t leave me alone, and so we both nearly paid the price.”

Bunny gave a reluctant nod. “We never expected…” he trailed off.

“I know, he saved my bally life and there’s nothing I can do to repay the chap! I can tell it’s still eating at him, but all he ever does is tell me not to worry myself! I dashed well know there’s nothing I can do, but there must be some way I can help him! It’s as though he’s gone somewhere I can’t follow.”

“Raffles never let me know what he was going to do until it was over.” Bunny’s eyes were fixed on the ground, with a rather faraway look about them. “I hated it, but it was always for my own good.”

“At least the risks of getting caught and all that were real. It’s starting to look like your cousin will never come after us, but Jeeves seems to think he could appear at any moment.”

“I try not to think about it most of the time, but there is always the danger…”

“You mean that Erik will come after you too?”

“Any of them, really.”

“But! I say, that’s absurd!” All I could think was that this was all some dark joke gone too far - and Jeeves does have a dark sense of humor that I’ve encountered on occasion - but I had seen, had experienced too much evidence to the contrary.

“I know, it’s been so long and nothing’s happened, but well, you always wonder, don’t you, what they’re all planning.”

“Your cousins you mean?” I asked, just to be sure this wasn’t all some reasonable misunderstanding.

Bunny nodded.

“How many bally cousins do you have?”

“I- I don’t know exactly.”

“And any of them could come after you bent on revenge for going at each other with knives or whatever it was?” It sounded even madder to say it aloud.

“Not revenge exactly.”

“But you really did brawl with knives and what not in your youth?”

“I mean, well, it’s not quite,” he fumbled about, looking rather like a fish stuck out of water.

I took it all as grim confirmation. “But you’re not fighting anymore, are you? Whatever happened is done and past, isn’t it?”

Bunny hesitated a touch. “We’re not supposed to, but you saw what E-Q did. And I’ve heard things about the others.”

“Going after each other, you mean?”

“Not exactly.”

“You mean, like you stealing things, then, or Dorian’s reputation?”

“Yes, that sort of thing.”

They sounded positively normal in comparison with everything else. It just goes to show how much a chap can get accustomed to. “I say! It’s all rather beyond belief, what?”

Bunny seemed a little startled by the assertion. “I suppose…”

I gave my tea a pensive swish, not an altogether happy one. “I always knew Jeeves was leagues beyond old Bertram mentally and in everything else, but I say, this is something else entirely. I fear I’m rather far out of my depths with all this life and death stuff.”

“You’ll probably be all right with Jeeves keeping an eye on you. He and E-Q were always about an even match.”

“It doesn’t seem like Erik’s coming after us at all. I’m just worried about Jeeves.”

“I’m certain Jeeves can manage it.”

“It’s not that.” I looked away - for some reason it’s often easier to talk about this sort of heavy stuff with your eyes fixed on the wall or some such rather than the other chap. “It was terrible being locked up and all, but the first few nights after we got out were almost as bad. I never thought I’d have a peaceful night again, always worrying about those yellow eyes peering at me in the dark. Sometimes, I still wake up in the middle of the night afraid something’s going to happen. But, somehow, it’s blown over for the most part for me, but Jeeves can’t seem to get a break. He still thinks your cousin could appear at any minute. It seems a dreadful way to live, but I don’t know what to do. It’s all starting to seem like it was just a bad dream to me, but to Jeeves it’s all too real.”

“It’s not so bad. It’s better to be safe than sorry, at least,” Bunny attempted.

“Maybe you’re right, it’s just…” I trailed off. “Well, the more I learn about Jeeves, the less I think I’ll ever really be able to understand it all, let alone help the chap.”

Very quietly, his eyes fixed upon his teacup, Bunny said, “Even with everything, Raffles never regretted it. I never managed to repay him for anything and now I never will, but no matter how much I cost him, he never once wished he had turned me away.”

I didn’t very well know what to say to all that but, “I say.” However, I couldn’t help but wonder if Jeeves, for all he said I meant to him, sometimes wished he’d cut his losses and left me to Erik.

* * *

One evening some weeks later, I was up reading in the sitting room. Jeeves had taken the evening off, you see, and rather than call it a night, I had instead elected to sit up and wait for the chap - it just seemed the thing to do. The dark and quiet flat was a little ominous, with just myself about, but as long as I remained immersed in my book, I didn’t so much mind it. I worried a little after Jeeves, out in the night on his own, ready prey for vengeful cousins, but he was probably just enjoying a quiet evening at the Junior Ganymede. There had been no trace of Erik since we had escaped from the opera house and if anyone could take care of himself, I knew Jeeves could.

He was out a little later than I had expected and inevitably, my eyelids eventually began to droop, my book fell into my lap, and I knew no more until I was startled from the restless by the opening of the door. I had a moment to collect my bearings before Jeeves materialized in the sitting room.

“What ho!” I exclaimed cheerfully.

Jeeves eyed me a little sharply - not exactly the greeting I’d hoped for. “Good evening, sir. Is there anything you require?”

“Oh, nothing,” I began to say, though it was interrupted by a yawn.

And then I noticed something awfully rummy about one of Jeeves’s hands. It would have been easy to miss; he was turned - I could only assume intentionally - so that the hand was mostly hidden behind him, and he kept it still at his side.

“Say, Jeeves, is your hand all right?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” he replied stiffly, in a way that suggested it certainly was not.

“I say, you’ve got it all bandaged up!”

“Yes, sir. It was an accident, nothing more.”

“You didn’t run into your cousin on your way back?”

“No, sir.”

Jeeves started out stiff and only got stiffer, but I wasn’t ready to let it rest there. “Let me see,” I insisted, not that there was much I could do, but I felt I ought to do  _ something _ .

“There is no cause for concern, sir.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I declared with a touch of aristocratic imperiousness.

At last, Jeeves caved and presented the bandaged appendage.

I bid him sit down on the couch and he obliged. I very carefully withdrew the bandage from his hand. It had been tightly and neatly applied, no doubt by the man himself. The top layers betrayed no blood, but as I drew closer to skin, a dark reddish stain appeared. At last, I withdrew the final layer to find his knuckles badly split.

“Jeeves, what happened?” I exclaimed, cradling his hand gingerly in my own - he made no move to withdraw it. “Did you get into a fight?” It may sound far fetched, murderous cousins aside, but the chap is rather more inclined to strong-arm work than he may at first glance appear.

“There is no need to trouble yourself, sir.”

I held firm - it was rather too late for that.

“It’s rather too late for that,” I said severely.

Jeeves glanced down at our hands; his still in mine.

“If you must know, sir,” he said with some reluctance - I gave an encouraging nod - “I went for a spot of boxing.”

“Boxing, Jeeves?” Of all things, this was new to me.

“Yes, sir. I have found that I’ve fallen rather out of training in recent years and Mr. Holmes has found boxing to be a suitable exercise.”

“Out of training? You mean you’re some sort of boxing whiz on top of everything else?”

“Not exactly, sir.”

That just about confirmed my suspicion. “Is this about your cousin, Jeeves? Getting into training to fight him if he shows his face in the metrop.?”

Jeeves hesitated, but a brainy cove like him can tell when the game is up. “Yes, sir. Merely a precaution.”

“Jeeves, is Erik going to come or isn’t he?” I demanded.

I only belatedly became aware that my hands had clenched around his wounded appendage in my frustration, and I hastily loosened my grip before I made things worse, though I refused to release his hand entirely.

“There is no cause for concern, sir,” Jeeves said, as though we were talking about whether there was a chance of rain.

“But it’s plainly concerning you! Don’t think I can’t see it; the furtive glances and that soupy tone of yours, and now this! I don’t want to see you getting beat up over a chap who, chances are, will never cross the channel!”

Jeeves started out looking like he disapproved of my suit, but as I spoke, his expression softened. When I was done, he answered me gently; “My apologies, sir. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Dash it all, Jeeves! This isn’t about me!”

“Sir?”

I searched those deep dark eyes of his for all the answers that seemed to be slipping from my grasp even as I began to formulate the questions. His gaze was warm, but I had gotten a glimpse of just how much was hidden from my sight, I dare say from my comprehension.

“I know I can barely comprehend it all,” I said. “Even getting kidnapped is starting to seem like it was all just a bad dream, I can’t fathom what it was like, being accustomed to fighting for your life with your horrible cousins. But it’s over, isn’t it? It’s been more than a month and there’s been no sign of Erik. You’re not fighting for your life any more.”

“No, sir, now I’m fighting for  _ your _ life.” He sounded deathly serious.

“Jeeves, that’s not the point! You don’t have to fight anyone for anyone’s life!”

Jeeves let out a breath that almost sounded like a sigh, but he only glanced away for an instant before fixing me with a sort of quietly intense look. He rearranged our hands so mine were held in his.

“Sir,” he said, “there are things worth fighting for.”

“Now, listen here, Jeeves! I don’t want you tearing yourself up on my account! You don’t have to live in fear of Erik or any of your bally cousins!”

Jeeves’s eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch, as though I had admitted to purchasing some offensive article of clothing, but he wasn’t quite giving me the cold s. “With all due respect, sir, I would not say that I am living in fear. A little caution is hardly a steep price to pay to ensure your safety and,” he continued, preempting me from interrupting, “to preserve the  _ status quo _ with which I’ve become so comfortable in your employ.”

“But the boxing!” I sputtered. “I say, letting burly fellows beat you up is more than a little caution.”

“They were hardly the ones doing the ‘beating up’, as you say, sir.”

“But, Jeeves, your hand!” I maneuvered my hands to take his h., still looking rather cracked and bruised, in mine. “Enough is enough, what? No more of this!”

“Very good, sir.” It could have meant anything coming from the chap, but I could tell it was the best I was going to get.

“Right-o!” I said with a bit of vehemence.

I gave the poor appendage a bit of a look over and scanned the rest of the chap for any visible bruises.

“Are you sure you’re quite all right, Jeeves?” I asked “No bruises or fresh scratches beneath the livery?”

He met my eyes, some faint suggestion of a smile playing across his chiseled features. “I assure you, there is no cause for concern, sir.”

“If you say so, Jeeves.”

“I did not intend to worry you, sir.”

I waved it off. “It’s past time for a return to that comfortable  _ status quo _ , what?”

“Indeed, sir.” The chap was definitely smiling now, at least one corner of his lips definitively raised.

I beamed back and gave his hand a gentle squeeze for good measure. “Rather!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooster met Raffles and Bunny in [Jeeves and the Amateur Cracksman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655242), Dorian Grey in [The Appearance of Dorian Grey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26049079), Dr. Watson in [Jeeves Gets Sick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798197), and Sherlock Holmes in [Jeeves and the Great Detective](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180496).
> 
> Their unfortunate encounter with the Phantom has brought things to a head, but much remains unresolved. The story continues in [The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860103)!


End file.
